Headaches
by reagancrew
Summary: What do you do when your life gets turned upside down? Who do you turn to? And how do you survive? When the unthinkable happens to Maura, will Jane step up, as a partner, as a best friend, as something more? Eventual Rizzles, picks up after the events of 2x15. Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli and Isles. Not mine, etc. etc.
1. Chapter 1

****This is my first Rizzoli and Isles fic. Let me know what y'all think and if I should continue.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles. Not for Profit. Etc. Etc.**

* * *

"Rizzoli."

"Jane. It's Frost. We've got a body."

"I'm on my way." Jane set her phone back down on the nightstand and rolled over rubbing her eyes. The red light from her alarm clock blinked 4:40 am. "Shit," she groaned, pushing herself out of bed. Today was her day off, which should have meant spending all day on the couch in her pajamas, beer in hand, watching ESPN. But now it meant a murder.

As Jane got up and slipped into her suit, she sent up a prayer of thankfulness that Maura was still on vacation so she didn't have to deal with that round of headaches before the sun was even up. Suffice it to say, things had been a little...strained between the Detective the Chief Medical Examiner since Jane shot Paddy Doyle, Boston Mob Boss and Maura's biological father. Just a little. Jane grabbed her keys, gun, and badge, and headed out the door.

When she arrived at the scene twenty minutes later, a hint of pink was just beginning to show over the buildings in the surrounding neighborhood, hinting at sunrise. Jane spotted Sergeant Detective Korsak, her old partner, and hurried over.

"What've we got, Korsak?" she asked brusquely, never one for pleasantries, especially before her morning coffee.

"Young female, late teens, found by some homeless guy in the dumpster. Dr. Isles is examining the body now," Korsak knew better than to try and greet the female detective with anything other than the details of the case.

"Maura's here?" Jane asked, surprised. "I thought she was still on vacation."

Korsak shrugged as the two moved into an alley blocked off by police tape. "I sent Frost back to the Brick to get started. He's running the vic's ID, trying to find her family."

Jane merely nodded. "Dr. Isles," she said cooly, coming up behind the, as always, impeccably dressed woman who was crouched beside the body. No one would have been able to tell that the Medical Examiner had been awoken by a phone call just as Jane had, not by her appearance anyway.

"I wasn't expecting to see you until next week. Too much sun down in good old Mexico? Or were you just having too much to handle all by yourself?" Jane didn't bother to hide her sarcasm. She was hurt still, as much as she didn't want to admit it, even to herself. Maura was her best friend, but after the incident, she had refused to even acknowledge Jane in anything other than a purely professional manner. She had rebuffed any and all attempts Jane made to apologize or explain her actions. The detective hadn't even known Maura was going on vacation until after she was already gone. Jane missed Maura, her companionship and google-mouth and horrible jokes. She missed her best friend. But she refused to apologize anymore; the ball as in the ME's court now.

"Detective Rizzoli, my vacation was fine. Thank you," Maura responded, not bothering to look up from the corpse before her.

"Any guesses as to cause of death, Doctor?" Jane asked innocently, knowing Maura refused and abhorred to guess.

"I do not guess," the distaste was evident in the doctor's tone, "detective. Science is less faulty," and with that, Maura finally looked pointedly up at Jane. "You might do well to use more caution before presuming to guess on something or take action on something as weighty as death."

The two stared at one another. Jane hadn't missed Maura's not-so-subtle reference to the shooting. Finally, Korsak cleared his throat awkwardly and both women jumped slightly, having forgotten the older detective was there. "Dr. Isles," she glanced up at him, "do you need anything else here?"

"No, Detective. I believe I have everything I need," she looked over the scene once more before rising smoothly to her feet. But as she came to her full height, she seemed to wobble for a moment. It could simply have been because of the three inch designer heels gracing her feet, but both Jane and Korsak reached out. Jane stopped herself before her arm was fully extended, but Korsak gripped the medical examiner's arm tightly to steady her.

"Dr. Isles?" Korsak questioned, gently.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Vince," she responded softly, stepping out of his hold. "Just orthostatic hypertension, that's all," she explained, shaking her head as though in irritation at some invisible annoyance. Both Jane and Korsak stared at her. "A head rush," she supplied. "But I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. Excuse me," she turned away from the two detectives and walked out to the street, pausing to address one of the officers about having the body delivered to the morgue.

"Well, that was weird," Jane muttered, looking at Korsak who merely shrugged in response. The Medical Examiner had never exhibited any such vulnerability at work before, even one as small as a slight bout of dizziness. It just didn't fit into Maura's put together persona. Jane shook her own head to clear it. She could deal with Maura and the tension there later. For now, there was a homicide to investigate. This was what Jane was good at: examining a crime scene, finding evidence, putting the pieces together, not all the emotional crap that came with dealing with her own personal life. This was her element.

* * *

Maura opened the door to her car and sank down into the seat with a sigh. She rubbed her temples in a frustrated attempt to remove the headache lodged there. She wasn't feeling any better for her time away. Seeing Jane so quickly after coming back to work hadn't gotten the day off to the best start.

She was no longer furious with the detective. In fact, Maura wished they could simply put the incident behind them, but Jane was stubborn; they both were. And Maura knew Jane had her guard up. Maura had treated her terribly and Maura knew that behind Jane's rough exterior, the detective was fiercely loyal and loving to her family and friends. Maura had destroyed that trust with her inability to forgive the detective her actions.

At first, Maura had spoken out of anger, but now that her hurt had passed, the doctor regretted her harsh words. Jane was one of the few people who put up with the good doctor's oddities and quirks. If Maura was honest, which she was, Jane was the first real friend Maura had ever had. She was her best friend. She wanted to go back and answer Jane's calls and text messages. She wanted to give the detective the chance to explain. But Maura knew that you couldn't erase what happened. Time travel was a scientific impossibility.

That problem wasn't going anywhere, at least not for awhile, but there was a murder to be solved, so, with a sigh, she turned the key and pulled out into the near empty road. This headache was driving her crazy. She'd come home from her vacation early because all she'd managed to do was lie in bed, and she could do that just as well in Boston as she could in a fancy hotel room. Plus she'd missed Bass, and Jane, even if they weren't speaking.

The morgue was still dark when Maura exited the elevator. They would be by t o drop off the body soon, but for now, all was quiet. Maura walked into her office and pulled out the Ibuprofen she kept in her desk. She knew it wouldn't help. The medication hadn't been successful in alleviating the near constant pressure for the past several weeks, but it didn't hurt to try. Maura knew that, at least on some level, the headaches were caused by the stress of dealing with her job and with her emotions related to Jane and their situation. She had tried to work it out by jogging and using her meditation techniques, but when those things hadn't worked, she had decided some time away might be best.

By lunchtime, the autopsy was complete and Maura was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping well. Nightmares where Jane hesitated in the warehouse and Paddy shot her instead of the other way around, while Maura could only watch, left her shaking and sobbing in her bed. When the nightmares didn't haunt her, Maura still slept fitfully, waking often, until would eventually get up, exhausted from yet another lackluster night of tossing and turning.

Jane hadn't been down yet to ask about findings from the autopsy, but Maura knew the feisty detective would come sooner rather than later. Determined to get something done while she waited, Maura settled herself behind her desk and picked up the files from Dr. Pike. She spent the next hour reading over the notes he had left in her absence. They were messy and disorganized and full of barely concealed distaste her his boss' office and staff. Pike was rude, but he was capable, and that was all she could ask when she left for a two week vacation on only 24 hour's notice. When, after another round of visual sparring with Jane left the, usually cool and collected, ME crying at her desk, she realized that she needed to step back and regain her composure.

She looked up from her work and realized it was past lunch time. She glanced queasily at the salad sitting on her desk and decided to forgo food. Instead she bent back over the notes from the older medical examiner. It wasn't long before her eyes were crossing and then her head dropped slowly onto her desk.


	2. Chapter 2

Alrighty - Here's Chapter Two. Let me know what y'all think and if I should continue.

**Disclaimer: Rizzoli & Isles isn't mine and yada yada. **

* * *

Jane burst into Dr. Isles' office, not bothering to knock. The morgue itself had been empty, so Jane assumed the doctor was working on paperwork. She was tired from getting up so early and annoyed because it was supposed to be her day off and dammit, she wanted some answers about this new case. "Dr. Isles," she began loudly, and then she noticed Maura sitting behind the desk with her head pillowed on her arms. The fact that the Medical Examiner would actually be sleeping, while at work, while she, Jane, was supposed to be at home, asleep, simply added to her annoyance level. Jane strode across the room, fully prepared to jolt the other woman into consciousness. But something made her pause with her mouth halfway open.

Jane had tried to avoid looking at her friend for the past few months. At this point their friendship was basically beyond repair in Jane's mind, but that didn't stop it from hurting when she had to meet the cool gaze Maura wore whenever they were near one another. And so, Jane had taken to looking at the crime scene, the body, the paperwork on her desk, Frost, anywhere but at Maura.

In sleep however, Maura wasn't glaring at Jane or looking at her like she was a bug on the bottom of the doctor's three hundred dollar pair of Jimmy Choos. In fact, asleep, Maura looked positively worn out and incapable of mustering the energy to glare at anyone. Jane noticed Maura's pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. It certainly didn't look as if the blonde had just spent two weeks relaxing on white sand beaches. It looked as if the doctor hadn't seen sunshine or had a good night's sleep in weeks. Her mouth was pulled down into a frown and her forehead was creased. Jane wondered what Maura was dreaming about that could make her look so terribly sad.

No, Jane shook her head, retracting the hand that seemed to have reached out of its own accord, intent on pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen across the ME's face. It wasn't her place to worry about Maura anymore. That was no longer her job. Jane wondered if it was anyone's job now. She hoped so. She knew the doctor wasn't exactly a pro at making friends, neither of them were, but somehow their quirks had matched one another perfectly. She hoped Maura had someone else who appreciated her and her google-mouth. Maura needed someone else to care about her since Jane no longer seemed welcome to fill that role. Swallowing back a sudden lump in her throat, the detective swiped angrily at her eyes. God, Maura looked so...so... so damn _small_, sleeping there.

"Maura," Jane said softly, reaching over and touching the sleeping woman on the shoulder. "Maur, wake up."

Maura shuddered and stirred. "Jane?" she mumbled.

"Yeah, Maura, c'mon. Wake up."

"Jane, 'm so tired."

Jane gulped, trying not to pull the sleepy woman into a tight hug. "Dr. Isles," she said more firmly.

At the use of her title, Maura opened her eyes. Seeming to realize she was not in the most professional of positions, she jerked her head up and then froze. She gripped the desk tightly and stared off into space for several moments as Jane stepped back and watched her closely, noting that Maura's fingers were white, her grip was so firm.

"Are you okay?" Jane inquired. "Another head rush?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that such a question could be construed as some form of care being shown for the doctor. "I mean," she hastily added, "you'd think your nap in the middle of the work day would have cleared that up for you." Jane hated to sound like such a bitch, but Maura deserved it. At least, that's what she told herself. And so she smirked after her statement, resurrecting her protective walls which had been torn down slightly by the sight of Maura sleeping.

Maura jumped and looked up at Jane as if she had forgotten it was the detective who had woken her up in the first place. "I'm terribly sorry. I haven't been slee-," Maura hesitated and her cheeks flushed slightly. She couldn't lie, but she didn't want Jane to realize how upset she actually was.

Jane stared at Maura and raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't been sleeping well. I apologize for my unprofessionalism," she finished.

Jane sighed. She'd thought that maybe, for just a second, Maura was going to confide in her. "Do you have anything on the victim yet?" she asked. She wanted to ask what had been keeping the medical examiner awake at night. She wanted to ask if it was the same things that had been keeping Jane from sleeping restfully. She wanted to, but she was done caring. She was.

"Yes," Maura seemed to brighten slightly at the mention of the body. Normally this would be the part where she would walk Jane through her findings, but that wasn't the way they worked anymore. Jane sighed internally again. Instead, she watched as Maura stood, steadying herself against the desk as she did so.

No one else would have registered the ginger way the doctor used the desk to support herself as she came to her full height, but Jane wasn't just anyone and something was off with Maura, that much she could clearly tell. So, Jane noticed the slight hesitation in Maura's steps as the doctor walked into the examination room and returned holding a manila envelope. Jane noticed the way Maura seemed to pause before going through the doorway, almost as though her depth perception was just the slightest bit off. Jane noticed the slight shake in Maura's hands when she handed over the envelope and how Maura moved quickly back to her chair.

"All of my initial findings are in there," she said, resuming her seat. "I'll have more once the lab results start coming in."

"Yes, well," Jane tried not to stutter, once again avoiding Maura's gaze, "this will be fine for now, I guess." She chanced a glance up before heading out and let her eyes skim the ME's already thin frame. The doctor was impeccably dressed of course, but her clothes seemed to almost hang off of her instead of shaping her body perfectly the way they used to. What in the hell was going on?

"Detective," Maura asked. She'd noticed Jane staring at her and the detective's piercing gaze had landed on her hands as though she had never seen such an appendage before. Maura wrapped her hands together tightly and placed them in her lap. She didn't think the slight shaking was noticeable; it was only due to stress after all. But she should have known Jane would see. Her attention to detail was part of what made her such an excellent homicide detective. "Jane," Maura murmured. Jane glanced up at her quickly. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Jane hesitated, looking as though she was poised on the edge of a question, but then she simply slapped the folder against her thigh. "No. Thanks." Maura sagged a little bit, some sort of strength leaving her body with Jane's cold tone. "Let us know what else you discover," Jane threw over her shoulder as she turned hastily to exit the morgue.

Maura, not trusting her voice, simply nodded. She'd thought that Jane was letting her guard down, about to say something, but she'd been wrong. And that disappointment was enough to cause her lacrimal glands to begin tear production. She didn't want Jane to realize how upset such a simple slight made her. The detective wasn't one for showing weakness and Maura didn't want to give her any other reasons to hate her.

"Oh, and Dr. Isles," Maura looked up quickly, realizing Janewas still standing in her doorway, "might I suggest you go home and get some sleep. We don't want your vacation hangover to affect your work. This is the Boston Police Department after all and we have a reputation to maintain." Jane shut the door firmly, leaving Maura white faced and hurt behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Welp, here's chapter 3. I'm trying to move it along folks. Sorry if it seems too slow. Let me know what y'all think.

* * *

Jane punched the elevator button fiercely, bouncing on the balls of her feet in impatience. "C'mon, c'mon," she murmured under her breath. She felt on edge and angry for reasons she couldn't explain. Maybe she should have just taken the stairs. Just as she was about to spin around and head for them, the bell dinged and the doors opened.

Once back up in the bullpen, Jane sat down at her desk and opened the file Maura had given her. She attempted to focus, but her mind was going a mile a minute. Instead, the detective hopped out of her chair and threw the file onto Frost's desk. He looked up at her in surprise. "Maura's preliminary findings," she said, by way of explanation. "I'm going for a walk." Frost didn't have time to respond and could only stare at her as she wrenched her jacket off the back of her chair and stalked away.

For the past three months, Jane had run the gamut of the emotional spectrum: fear, guilt, hurt, sadness, and, finally, anger. When Jane first came to realize exactly how furious she was at Maura for putting her in such a terrible situation, as irrational as that anger might have been, she clung to it. The anger was better than the hurt she felt whenever she realized how far apart she and her friend had drifted, how alone she was now that Maura refused to talk to her. It wasn't that Jane was only angry with Maura, she was plenty mad at Dean and Doyle, too. And at herself. Perhaps she was more upset with herself than anything, but Maura was the one who, in Jane's mind demanded the brunt of the anger. This situation that they were in was now resoundingly Maura's doing. Jane had apologized, she'd begged, and pleaded. Jane Rizzoli, tougher than any of the guys, had actually begged Maura to forgive her. But the ME had remained impassive to all of Jane's attempts. So now Jane was furious and she took that anger with her everywhere: home, work, out in the field.

Jane kicked at the sidewalk, too frustrated to pay much attention to where she was heading, just needing to let off some steam. Jane had come to appreciate her anger, it was her defense system. But after that weird encounter with the doctor, Jane had to admit that her anger was tempered somewhat by confusion and, loathe as she was to acknowledge it, concern. What had just happened?

She'd never seen Maura act so strangely or show such vulnerability, especially at work. Maura was tough. She'd been through hostage situations and kidnappings and she'd watched her best friend shoot herself to kill a dirty cop. She'd survived learning that her biological father was the most infamous mob boss to ever grace the streets of Boston and multiple encounters with Hoyt. Hell, before all that, Maura'd basically raised herself, putting up with absent parents and people who refused to take the time to get to know and appreciate her for who she was, rather than how smart she might be. So the fact that Jane had walked in on Maura asleep in her office, and that the doctor had seemed so worn down, didn't just concern the detective, it worried her to no end. That worry just made Jane more angry because she had no idea how to approach Maura again to find out what was wrong.

"Dammit," Jane whispered suddenly. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

Suddenly, she stopped, spun on her heel, and headed back towards the station. Jane hated having to ask for help, _especially_ from her own overbearing, gossiping mother, but Angela Rizzoli loved Maura like a second daughter. She was still living in the ME's guest house for goodness' sake. If anyone could sneak past Maura's defenses and find out what was going on, it would be Jane's mother.

* * *

Maura left the morgue soon after speaking to Jane. She could hardly keep herself upright at her desk her head was aching so badly, and Jane was correct: if she couldn't focus properly on her work, she shouldn't be there. She told her assistant to contact Dr. Pike if anything came up between then and the following morning. Maybe she would feel better by tomorrow. Maura grimaced. Perhaps.

She seemed to make the drive home on autopilot. She knew that it was not safe to drive if she was so unfocused on the road, but she couldn't manage to concentrate on anything besides the conversation with Jane. Maura kept replaying their words back through her mind, attempting to use her understanding of facial expressions to discern what Jane had been thinking. But the detective had always been difficult for Maura to read, even when they were spending most of their time together. Jane just knew how to keep her face blank, a skill she'd picked up after more than a few nasty interrogations.

Maura wished she could simply ask the detective what she had been thinking, but that would entail calling or texting the other woman, which would mean crossing the invisible boundary the two had erected around their friendship. Maura rubbed her face with her palm angrily. If only this stupid headache would go away and leave her free to contemplate her thoughts in peace. She knew it was silly to simply wish away a discomfort, but the pounding in her temples was not making focusing an easy task.

When she walked through the front door, everything was quiet. Maura found Bass sitting in the living room, washed off several Peruvian lettuces leaves, and set them next to his still form. She slipped off her heels and sat down on the couch next to where the tortoise was resting on the floor. She needed to get up and change her clothes so her dress wouldn't wrinkle, but she was too tired to move.

"What do you think I should do, Bass?" Maura asked, stroking his shell gently. Jane was usually the one who attempted to talk to the tortoise. Maura smiled fondly when she remembered how the detective refused to acknowledge Bass as anything other than "the turtle." She missed having Jane around; the house seemed silent and empty without her and the rest of the Rizzoli's around, eating family dinner or watching baseball and yelling at the television.

Maura pulled her legs up to her side and rested her head on the arm of the couch. "What are we going to do, Bass?" she asked again. Maura hadn't had a lot of experience with best friends and how to go about apologizing after a fight. Although she had read heavily on the subject in the past few weeks, words in print never seemed to carry over exactly into the real word, especially not when heated emotions got involved. One of the reasons Maura had become a medical examiner in the first place was to avoid all of the human sentiment that came into play when one was forced to work with live patients.

She had always been the odd one out and a bit of a loner, and she honestly hadn't minded. At least not until Jane made Maura realize just how wonderful it could be to have a friend. How nice it was to have someone who cared and wouldn't leave just because Maura said or did something socially awkward. Jane made Maura feel protected and loved and appreciated, all things she had struggled to find her entire life. Jane taught Maura what it was like to be a best friend and now that they weren't speaking, Maura didn't know what to do with herself.

When she realized that she was thinking in circles, Maura sighed. She needed to get up and change her clothes. There was a documentary from the History Channel she had recorded and been meaning to watch, now was as good a time as any. But, when she went to sit, and felt just how tired she actually was, the doctor sank back down into the couch cushions. She was exhausted. Before she could even reach for the throw blanket on the back of the couch, the ME was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4, peeps! Enjoy.

* * *

"Ma. Ma!" Jane hissed. Her mother looked up from the cash register and hurried over to where Jane was standing near the coffee dispensers.

"Mr. Stanley's on a rampage today, Janie, so I don't have much time to chat. Oh! Did you see the new website Agent Frost made for me and the café? It's so wonderful! My customers can or-"

"Ma, listen to me," Jane butted in, rolling her eyes. She didn't have time to listen all about how wonderful Agent Frost was. Angela Rizzoli would talk simply for the sake of making noise if you let her. Angela looked a bit upset by Jane's interruption, so she was quick to apologize. "Sorry, Ma. It's just, well, have you talked to Dr. Isles at all since she got back from her trip?"

Angela's eyes lit up. "I saw her yesterday, but I was leaving just as she was getting home. Why?" the older woman nudged her daughter, "Did you two finally make up?"

Jane sighed.

"Or did you have another fight? This has got to stop, Jane!" Angela's voice was rising with her agitation. "She's your best friend!"

"Ma, shhh. I know, okay? That's why I'm asking if you've talked to her lately."

"Well no, I mean she was gone and everything. Why? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Jane rubbed her neck fitfully. She had been trying to appear as if this fight with Maura wasn't bothering her, especially in front of her friends and family, but Angela knew that Jane still cared greatly for the doctor. "It's just that she seemed a little off today."

"Maura?"

"Yes, Maura. Jesus," Angela swatted Jane lightly with the towel she had slung over her shoulder. Jane had the decency to look a bit ashamed. "Do you think you could talk to her? Try and figure out what's going on?"

"I suppose I could..." Mrs. Rizzoli trailed off. "But, Janie, you know how private she is."

"Yeah, I know. But she loves you. Maybe she'd talk to you," Jane looked at her mother hopefully.

"Honey, she's your best friend. You should be to one to talk to her."

"I already apologized, Ma. It's up to her now. Besides, what do I care if something's wrong with her. I just need to make sure the Medical Examiner is alright. Work, ya know. Wouldn't want her messing up any of our investigations."

Angela glared knowingly at her daughter. Jane refused to meet her mother's gaze.

"This is about the department. Not Maura. Or whatever," Jane finished lamely. She refused to show any sign of weakness, but Angela knew how much Jane was actually worried about the doctor. "Could you just talk to her, please."

"Sure, Janie," Angela said, softly. Just then, Stanley came out from the back room.

"Rizzoli!" he barked. "This isn't social hour! Get back to work!"

"Sure thing, Mr. Stanley," Angela called over her shoulder, not sounding in the least perturbed by the man's rude command. She patted Jane's hand, "I'll talk to Maura tonight. But you need to make up with her Janie. You're too stubborn for your own good. I love you both you know!" Angela threw over her shoulder as she disappeared behind the counter.

"I know, I know," Jane huffed under her breath, making a face at her mother's retreating back. She picked up her coffee and headed back upstairs. Now that she knew Angela would check on Maura, maybe she could stop feeling so guilty about her earlier encounter with the ME and focus on the case. There was a homicide to investigate after all and Korsak and Frost would be wondering where she'd gone off to.

When she got back upstairs, Frost was throwing crumpled up pieces of paper towards the trash can and Korsak was lounging at his desk, solitaire open on his desktop.

"What the hell is this?" Jane questioned. "I leave for an hour and it turns into a free-for-all up here."

Frost merely shrugged and went back to making baskets. "Paper work's done, call's been put out to the vic's family. Now we're just waiting on those lab reports and a definitive cause of death."

"Cut the crap," Jane sneered. "I know you've got work to do. We all do," she looked pointedly at Korsak who sheepishly closed his solitaire game. "Let's run through it all again," she leaned back in her chair and nodded towards the file sitting open on Frost's desk.

By the time Jane left the precinct, it was dark outside. She walke down the steps towards her car, thanking her lucky stars Rondo hadn't come by at all today to tow it away. There were only so many times she was going to get lucky parking out front.

The case was going nowhere. They had the ID of the victim, Louise Randall, 20, and had tried to contact the family, but so far no one had showed up yet. They hadn't been able to locate an address for the victim because she'd only recently moved to the city. Maura hadn't been able to rule definitively on a cause of death yet, which meant they were waiting on blood work and toxicology still. Those wouldn't be in for at least another day.

The doctor had been able to determine that the victim had been raped prior to her death, and had put the semen sample into the system. So far, no matches had been returned. There hadn't been any other evidence left behind that could lead them to a suspect. Frost and Korsak had left hours ago, but Jane had spent some more time pouring over the file. It was always hard when a case got off to such a frustrating start. All in all, it had not been a good day.

With such a disappointing day, Jane might have headed for the Dirty Robber to toss back a beer or two and chat with Maura. The doctor was always able to provide some new insight on a case, or at least get Jane's mind off of work for a couple of hours. But Jane hadn't been to the Dirty Robber in months. It felt weird to slide into "their" booth without Maura sitting across from her, glass of wine in hand.

Instead, Jane headed her unmarked cruiser for home. She took Jo Friday out for a walk, changed into some pajamas and laid down on the couch, flipping SportsCenter on for some comforting background noise. She closed her eyes, mentally prepared to go through the case in her head until she drifted off, but instead her thoughts went to Maura and what the ME was up to. Probably asleep. Hopefully asleep, Jane amended. The doctor looked like she could use a good night's rest. Jane wondered if Angela had gotten a chance to talk to the other woman yet, and if so, what she had managed to discover.

Jo Friday jumped up onto the couch, startling Jane, before turning in three smart circles and cuddling up next to her owner. Jane rested her hand on top of the dog's head. "Looks like it's just you and me, Jo," she said. "Jesus. Now I'm talking to the dog," Jane shook her head in annoyance. "What are we going to do?" She questioned quietly, rubbing the dog behind the ears.

Jane fell asleep fitfully, worries about the case and Maura circling around in her brain, the baseball highlights playing on the television and Jo Friday curled tightly at her side.

Jane jerked awake, sitting up and spilling Jo off of her lap. She gazed around the apartment quickly, taking deep breaths and attempting to settle her racing mind. She was no stranger to nightmares. After Hoyt, she'd dealt with them almost every single night, reliving the moment when he pinned her to the ground using two scalpels over and over. Hearing his voice in her head, "_Scent of lavender...and fear,_" in her dreams where she couldn't get away, couldn't make him stop talking. She saw Frankie, dying on Maura's table, and herself putting a bullet through her own gut just to save her brother's life. Lately, her nightmares had revolved around the moment when she shot Paddy Doyle and Maura had pushed her away, screaming at her not to touch the mob boss.

But this, this had been bad, worse than usual. Jane pushed herself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap. The first sip helped steady her a little. As she drank the water, it grounded her, tearing her out of the grasp of the nightmare.

It had been horrible. It didn't involve Paddy Doyle, but Maura was in it. Maura and Hoyt. And it wasn't Jane that the man had pinned to the basement floor, it was Maura and Jane had been powerless to stop him. He had taunted her, pulling the scalpel along Maura's neck sickeningly, leering at her while she screamed for him to let the blonde go. To take her instead. And throughout it all, Maura had stared at Jane, begging with her terrified gaze for the detective to come to her aid. To save her. But Jane hadn't been able to, she couldn't and Maura had - No!

Maura was fine. It had been a nightmare. That was all it was. Maura was fine. Without even being conscious of her actions, Jane grabbed her keys and shrugged into a coat, running out into the night and hopping into her car. She was halfway to the doctor's house before she came to her senses. It was 3:30 in the morning. Maura was asleep, safe, at home. She didn't need Jane to come barging in, waking her up. Jane could see Maura the next day at work. Everything was fine.

Jane kept reminding herself that it had just been a dream as she turned the car around and headed back to her own apartment. She let herself in the door and headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight, not with those images of Hoyt and Maura running around in her head. No. No more sleep for the detective that night.


	5. Chapter 5

When Angela Rizzoli got home that evening, she let herself into Maura's through the kitchen door. Everything was quiet, but she'd seen Maura's car in the driveway and the kitchen light was on, letting her know the ME was home. "Maura?" she called out. When she didn't receive a response, the older woman headed for the living room. "Maura?" she tried again.

Just then, she noticed the doctor curled up, asleep on the sofa. She was still in her work clothes, so Angela assumed she'd passed out before making it to the bedroom. That was odd. The older woman had never known the doctor to be so lax as to lounge around in her nicer outfits. Maura was practically OCD about them getting wrinkled.

Angela debated with herself about waking the younger woman up. She could make Maura some dinner, try and get her to open about whatever it was that was bothering her. Mrs. Rizzoli had a fairly good idea of what had Maura so upset Jane would willingly come to her for help, but still, maybe the blonde would feel better after talking it out. Angela tapped her hand anxiously against her thigh.

If it was one of her own children, she wouldn't hesitate to pry. That was what mother's did. But this was Maura, and as much as she loved and treated her like a second daughter, she knew overt signs of affection could make the doctor feel uncomfortable. So, instead of waking her, Angela grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over the sleeping form.

"She missed you," Angela murmured as she brushed Maura's hair gently off of her face. "She needs you," Mrs. Rizzoli gently tucked the younger woman in and left, turning off the lights behind her.

In her sleep, Maura shifted slightly, cuddling down into the couch cushions and the blanket. Once she was comfortable, she stilled and silence descended over the house, the only movement came from Bass, making his slow, pondering way into the kitchen.

The next morning, Maura woke confused. She wasn't in her bed. Where was she? And then she felt the soft wool of the blanket against her face, and sat up. She must have fallen asleep on the couch last night. She glanced down; and in her clothes, too. Maura sighed. They would be horribly wrinkled.

The doctor shook her head, groaning slightly as the ever present headache made its way back into her temples. Perhaps she would call and schedule a massage for later in the week. That would help to relax her muscles and over-stressed mind. She grabbed her phone off the side table and headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, and get some strawberries out for Bass.

However, the clock on the wall already said seven thirty. That couldn't be right, could it? She checked her phone. Maura was going to be late! Forgetting the coffee for the moment, she whirled and headed for the bedroom. Dr. Isles hated being late.

She showered and changed quickly, put out some berries for the tortoise and headed for the precinct. She was out the front door so quickly, she didn't realize she'd left her phone sitting on the kitchen counter until she was already in the car. Huffing in annoyance, she jumped out and ran back to the house. By the time she managed to make through the Boston morning traffic and to the precinct, the normally composed medical examiner was flushed and flustered.

She pulled her car into her spot, and then sat for a moment, attempting to take deep, calming breaths. Everything was fine, she reminded herself. She was allowed to be fifteen minutes late, that wasn't a crime. She'd overslept. It was perfectly acceptable. People did it all the time. She was only human after all. Yes, she was human, not a cyborg.

Maura smiled slightly at the memory of Jane questioning her humanity. It had been purely in jest, and Maura had gone along willingly with the joke. It was then that Maura had realized how comfortable she felt with Jane, how easy it was to just _be _with the other woman. Maura didn't have to constantly check what she was going to say, or be worried that her random facts and scientific emotions would scare the other woman away. That had been one of the first times Maura knew what it felt like to have a best friend.

The happy memory helped to soothe her, and Maura stepped confidently out of the car. She would have to stop in the café and pick up some coffee as she hadn't had time to make her own. As nice as it had been to remember a pleasant time with Jane, Maura fervently hoped the detective wouldn't be in the café talking to Angela when she arrived. Jane would be sure to realize the doctor was late and make some rude comment about it, if she even bothered to acknowledge the doctor at all.

Maura sighed as she entered the precinct. It was her own fault after all. She knew Jane was waiting for some sign that Maura had forgiven her, the doctor just didn't know how to go about giving Jane such a sign.

Maura's gaze landed on Jane immediately as stepped inside the café. She frowned and attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress. Jane's eyebrow rose as she caught the good doctor's eye.

"What's up, Doc?" Jane quipped, approaching the other woman. In her head, Jane was screaming at herself to look at the signs. Five hours ago she'd been on the verge of hyperventilating because she was so worried about the woman's well-being, and now she couldn't even be civil. Dammit. Be nice, she told herself. Figure out what's going on. Angela wasn't in yet, so Jane hadn't been able to ask her mother how the little reconnaissance mission had gone last night. "Geez, Dr. Isles. Coming in late this morning, I see," Jane glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall and then back at Maura.

Maura took an unconscious step backward as the detective approached, trying to put as much space between herself and the other woman. Jane's eyes flashed as she noticed the move. Was that concern Maura glimpsed for a moment? No, it couldn't have been because just as quickly Jane was back to displaying annoyed contempt.

"Have you got any of those labs back yet?"

Maura shook her head. "I - I haven't had a chance to check yet."

Jane nodded as though she'd assumed as much. "Well, we can't all sleep in on a Thursday."

Maura flushed and looked away. "I'll have them for you soon, Detective."

Jane took the opportunity to study Maura's features. She looked as though she'd gotten about as much sleep as Jane had. "Alright then," Jane responded.

Maura looked up quickly, as though surprised Jane hadn't said anything snarky or rude. She noticed that Jane's cheek bones protruded more than they had several weeks ago and there were dark circles forming beneath her eyes. Maybe the detective hadn't been sleeping well either. "I'm sorry," Maura couldn't help murmuring.

Jane's head shot up. "For, for the labs. I'll wo-work on them." Maura cursed herself for her inability to articulate how sorry she actually was. Because as soon as she'd clarified what it was that she was sorry for, Jane had assumed a dejected puppy dog look, one which Maura had always found weighed heavily on her own emotional positivity.

"It's fine," Jane muttered, brushing past the doctor, and heading for the bull pen.

Maura watched her go. She hated to use such idiomatic expressions, but she believed that Jane would have told her she had just successfully put her "foot into her mouth." She wished she could take it back, and explain what she was actually sorry for, but the brown haired detective had already disappeared into the elevator.

Angela Rizzoli walked in just at that moment. "Was that Janie I just saw?" she asked the medical examiner.

"I - well, yes. She was inquiring after some labs."

"Oh!" Mrs. Rizzoli looked pleasantly surprised and she smiled at Maura.

Hating to disappoint the older woman, the ME mustered up a smile in return. "I should get downstairs."

"Of course, dear," Angela patted Maura's hand comfortingly, happy when the doctor didn't turn around. "Would you like a coffee to go?"

"Yes, please," Maura responded.

Once she'd gotten her cup of coffee from Mrs. Rizzoli, managing to avoid the concerned looks the older woman was shooting her way, Maura practically bolted for the morgue. This day was not starting off well.

* * *

When Jane clomped angrily into the bullpen, Frost and Korsak were both standing up and pulling on their coats. "Where are you guys going?" she asked.

Frost glanced her way. "C'mon, you're coming, too," he said. "We've got a body."

"Good," Jane muttered under her breath, snatching up her car keys.

Korsak looked at her with a bemused expression. "I mean," Jane tried to backtrack, "it's not good that there's a _body_ of course."

Korsak merely nodded and glanced at Frost knowingly. "What?" Jane asked. "You two got something to say?"

Frost shook his head. "I'm staying out of this one," he muttered.

"Vince?" she questioned, turning on the older man.

"It's nothing, Jane. Let's just get out to the scene," he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Seriously, cause that didn't look like a normal little glance the two of you just shared. If you have something to say, you can say it to my face, ya know."

Korsak groaned. "It's just that you only act happy about a murder when you've come from some sort of argument with the doc."

"With Maura? What are you talking about?" Jane questioned, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm not happy about the murder, I'm just happy to have something to do. My attitude has nothing to do with Dr. Isles."

"Of course not, Janie," Korsak agreed quickly. Too quickly.

She wasn't really up for arguing about this right now. She knew both men thought the cat fight between the two women had gone on long enough, but neither wanted to be the one to just come out and confront her about it. "Fine," she sighed. "Let's go."

"Can I drive?" Frost asked hopefully as they headed out, attempting to relieve some of the tension.

"Hah!" Jane let out a bark of laughter. "In your dreams, buddy."


	6. Chapter 6

Hey y'all, sorry it took me a little longer to update. Hurricane Sandy knocked out the power for a bit there. I wanted to get this one up for you guys quickly so it might be full of mistakes. Whoops. Also, sorry if y'all think it's moving too slowly. I'm big on character development...or at least I like to think I am. Let me know.

* * *

"Dr. Pike?" Korsak said, enough surprise in his voice for all three detectives.

"Where's Dr. Isles?" Frost asked, shoot a glance at Jane.

"Dr. Isles," Pike said Maura's title with a particular air of distain which set Jane's teeth on edge, "apparently wasn't feeling up to a body collection today." He scoffed as if his boss was simply too lazy to leave the office. "Besides, I tend to find her work disordered and uncontrolled."

"The doc, unorganized?" Korsak laughed under his breath, lifting the police tape for Jane to duck beneath.

"And pigs fly," Frost muttered.

The white haired medical examiner was bent over the body of another young girl, blonde, with obvious signs of rape. She had been left behind the dumpsters of another alley, seven blocks from where the first girl had been discovered. Pike was muttering into a handheld recorder as he went over the body. Jane strode closer, intent on getting a look for herself. She knew better than to trust Pike's notes on a scene. If anyone was unorganized and incompetent, it was the older doctor.

"Please, Detective," Pike broke off his muttering and held up his hand, "allow me to do my job while you do yours," he looked pointedly around the crime scene.

Jane groaned under her breath and rolled her eyes.

"Examining the body _is _our job!" Frost snapped. He and the doctor didn't exactly get along.

Pike glared at him.

Jane hastily stepped in to intervene. If they wanted to get anything off this scene, they would need Pike's full cooperation. "Oh Dr. Pike," she practically oozed with honeyed flattery, "I am just a huge fan of your work." Frost and Korsak could only gape at her.

"You ar-" Frost started to ask, but Korsak elbowed him in the ribs. "-eee! Yes, of course. Uh, me too!" Jane glared at him before turning back to the doctor.

"I was hoping that perhaps I might possibly be able to observe you...you know...in action? Do you think there's anyway you might walk me through your procedure? Please," Jane clasped her hands together and forced herself to bat her eyelashes at the shell-shocked man. Any member of Boston PD would have cracked up at the display Rizzoli was putting on, but Pike seemed to eat it up.

"Well, certainly, Detective Rizzoli," the older man purred. He waved Jane forward and she crouched down beside him. "Now you'll see here.." Jane tuned the annoying man out immediately and began to make her own assessment. No obvious wounds on the body, no gunshot wounds or knife or rope marks, the victim's hands were clean, indicating she hadn't fought back or had been unable to. The area around the body was clean. Strange.

Pike finished his examination and stood up, Jane following suit. "Well, Dr. Pike, that was absolutely outstanding!" Jane enthused. "Thank you _so _much for your excellent work," Pike nodded his head and, was he blushing?

"Of course, Detective. I'll have the body delivered to the morgue and let you know when I begin my autopsy if you'd like to come down and observe..." he trailed off.

"I would. Thank you." Jane turned briskly and walked away. "Anything?" she asked Korsak.

"Frost is checking with the officers handling crowd control. So far, no witnesses. We got the ID off the body and will run it as soon as we get back to the brick. Her name is Lana Phillips. 22."

Jane nodded. "I couldn't see any obvious sign of death. Looks like it might match our other m.o. We might be looking at a dual murder."

Korsak looked grim. "Hopefully we aren't looking at any more."

Jane clapped him on the shoulder, "We're working on it, Korsak."

He nodded. "Let's get Frost and head back. Start figuring out if our victims are connected." The two started heading for the car, waving Frost over as they went. Jane hopped into the driver's seat and turned the car back the way they'd come.

"Well that was strange," Frost broke the silence from the backseat. Korsak nodded in agreement.

"Hmm? What's that?" Jane asked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. She was worrying about Maura. Again.

"Well, just the whole, Dr. Pike being there thing. I really hate that guy."

"You know," Korsak said, "I've never known Dr. Isles to send someone else out to a crime scene if she was in the office."

"Maybe something came up," Frost responded thoughtfully. "Jane?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. It's weird, I guess." Jane thought it was more than kind of weird, but she didn't want her partner knowing she was worrying about the ME. "Maybe she's gotten too good to come slumming it around at crime scenes with the likes of us."

Korsak and Frost shared a look in the rearview mirror.

"C'mon, Janie," Korsak said softly.

She glanced at him and back to the road.

"Let's just focus on the case, okay? You guys can worry about Maura later. She'll still be doing the actual autopsy right? So it's fine," and with that the discussion was over.

When they got back to the brick, the three trudged upstairs. Frost popped into the café and grabbed a couple of coffees. Jane pulled out the board and the case files, and Vince took off his suite jacket. This was going to be a long day.

When Dr. Pike called up, Jane headed down to the morgue to oversee the autopsy. She assumed Maura would be there, too, but the ME's office door was closed. Pike noticed her glance, "Dr. Isles has asked that I perform the autopsy. She asked not to be disturbed," he huffed in annoyance.

Jane really hated this man. "Well, let's get to it then," she said, not bothering to offer the man the same flattery she had worked up earlier. Throughout the autopsy, Jane kept looking over at Maura's door, hoping she would appear, but the door stay firmly shut the entire time. When they were finally finished, Jane scooped up the preliminary report, "Well, thanks Pike," she said nonchalantly.

The older gentlemen looked slightly put out at the detective's cavalier attitude after her wonderful performance that morning.

"Let us know if anything else comes up!" Jane had been planning to head straight upstairs, but her curiosity as to what Maura was thinking, letting Pike have free reign in her morgue got the better of her and she turned towards the closed door instead.

"Detective, she said not to be disturbed," Pike called out to her.

Jane merely waved at him. She knocked gently on the door and Maura's voice called out to enter. Jane took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever sparring match might be awaiting her and pushed the wooden door open.

Maura was sitting straight-backed in her chair, laptop open on her desk and files spread all around. "Oh, Detective Rizzoli, I wasn't expecting you," she seemed surprised but not angry, which Jane took as a good sign. "Can I help you with something?"

Jane rocked on the balls of her feet, "Well, no, I just," Maura was looking at her with an expectant look on her face. They hadn't had any random visits in awhile and she was interested as to the excuse the detective was going to come up with.

Jane was at a loss. How was she supposed to ask after the doctor without sounding interested. Shit. "Well, Frost and Korsak just missed you at the crime scene this morning. They wanted me to find out if everything was...alright," she finished lamely, assuming the doctor would see through her ruse in a moment.

But Maura simply nodded. "That was very thoughtful of them. You may let Barry and Detective Korsak know that I am fine. I simply had an extreme amount of paperwork to catch up on and knowingly Dr. Pike is ... capable," she couldn't lie after all, "I sent him in my stead."

Jane nodded, refusing to look at the ME. "Is there something else?" Maura questioned when the detective looked as if she still had something on her mind.

Jane took a hesitant step further inside the office and then froze. Although Maura's response may have been perfectly satisfactory, the detective knew there was something else. Maura would never elect to send Pike instead of coming herself. It was completely out of character for the type A doctor. "Maura, I," Jane cleared her throat. She looked up shyly. Sure, she was waiting for the blonde to get off of her high horse and apologize and sure she said she wasn't going to care, but Jane cared, a lot. She may have hid it well, but Jane Rizzoli had one of the biggest hearts around, and Maura was still at the top of her list when it came to caring for her family.

Maura was still watching her. In fact, to Jane, it looked as if the ME was about to burst into tears. She was holding herself extremely still, her eyes burning a hole into Jane's. "Maura," she took another step forward, "are you - are you alright?"

If Maura had been less well trained in the art of polite conversation, she might have allowed her mouth the drop open. "I, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern," she hestitated, "Jane. Thank you."

Now it was Jane's turn to stare at Maura. "Because, well, because you look, well I just wanted to check that's all."

Maura softened her gaze. She could apologize now, it would be only too easy, and Jane would forgive her. They could go back to normal. But would it ever actually be normal again? No. Goodness, her head hurt. "I'll be alright, Jane. I assure you."

The brown haired detective nodded. "Because it's okay," she said, not wanting to end the conversation when they were actually managing to be civil, "if you're not. It's okay. I wouldn't...judge you or anything."

Maura sighed. "Thank you, Jane. But I'll be fine."

Jane nodded, knowing that was her dismissal. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

"Thank you," Maura said softly again, deflating when she heard the door close behind the other woman.

Jane shut the door and headed for the elevator. Well, although she was certain now that Maura was _not _okay, at least they were headed in the right direction. At least she hoped so. Now she needed to talk to Angela and see if Maura had confided in her mother. Jane felt a little lighter as she walked into the bullpen. Maybe Maura was beginning to come around. She allowed herself a small bit of hope to peak through her well-constructed wall.

* * *

AN2 - Is the ice thawing? Should I continue?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7. Enjoy!

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a blur for Maura. She went over Pike's work quickly, but didn't even attempt to engage the man in a conversation. She caught up on old paperwork, squinting to read the fine print through her headache. At five o'clock, a perfectly acceptable time to end the working day she reasoned with herself, she packed up her purse and headed for home.

After feeding Bass, Maura went upstairs and drew herself a bath. She knew that she would have to eat something at one point or another, but lately her appetite had been lacking. She knew the exact amount of nutrients her body should require for her weight and height every day, and she was aware that she had been missing the mark for the past few days, but food simply hadn't been high on her list of priorities lately. For now, all Maura wanted was to sink down into the soothing bath water and let her mind drift. But, as she lowered herself into the bath, leaning back against the towel she'd placed there, she found it difficult to keep her mind blank. She was a doctor, and yes, she did not usually practice on living patients; Jane was usually her only real patient, but she _was _a doctor, and an extremely intelligent one. And so Maura was well aware that her condition was becoming somewhat serious. The symptoms were altogether too persistent to be blamed completely on stress and emotional fatigue. Constant headaches, exhaustion, blurred vision, loss of appetite. It couldn't all be attributed to the added strain she had been under since the shooting. Maura preferred analytical reasoning over the hazy guesswork that one often encountered when attempting to determine one's emotions, and therefore, she did not often take the time to examine hers, but for once, she allowed her mind to hypothesize.

When it came right down to it, Maura realized, she missed Jane. The lanky detective knew how to make Maura laugh, she understood her, put up with Maura's incessant facts and google talk. Jane had taken on so much more than just being Maura's friend, she was also her confidante and protector. She had saved Maura from more things than the doctor cared to bring up: rude coworkers, Paddy Doyle, Charles Hoyt, Maura's own mother's inattentiveness.

The aloof doctor had never been one to appreciate hugs or obvious signs of affection. Her parents had never been good at displays such as goodnight kisses and hugs. She knew that Jane, too, was never one for physical contact. She'd watched Jane squirm out of Angela's embrace enough. But at that moment, Maura found that she desired a hug from the brunette more than anything else. She felt safe when Jane hugged her, warm, home. She positively ached to be in the detective's arms and feel that sense of security again.

Maybe it was odd that she missed Jane and her hugs so much. Maura had never had a fight with a best friend before; she had never had a best friend. She didn't know if this level of hurt and loneliness was normal and simply to be expected. Perhaps it was strange, but at that point Maura could care less. She just wanted her best friend back. She wanted to make Jane laugh and help her solve a case. She wanted to go out to the Robber with Jane and the guys for drinks. She wanted Jane to sit on her couch and explain the finer points of a Red Sox game to her, while Mrs. Rizzoli cooked Sunday dinner in her kitchen. She wanted to pull Jane out of bed on Saturday mornings for their run, and spend the day, just the two of them together. Together. And happy.

Tears were running down Maura's cheeks and she swiped them away angrily. Perhaps it was time to seek someone's advice. She didn't even know how to go about analyzing Jane's visit to the morgue earlier. Did that mean that Jane missed their friendship as much as Maura did?

A clanging noise from downstairs caused Maura to jump and splash some of the bathwater out onto the floor. She realized that the water had become tepid and that she was beginning to shiver, her body's attempt to generate heat. How long had she been lost in her thoughts?

Stepping out of the bath, Maura wrapped a robe around herself, pulled the plug and watched the water drain away, then headed downstairs to investigate the source of the noise. She gripped the railing tightly, actually using it for support, leaning her weight on the wood heavily as she walked down the carpeted stairs. The bath had relaxed her muscles and relieved some of the tension in her head, but she was now feeling the exhaustion setting in. Her head, instead of feeling like a pressurized drum, simply felt...fuzzy, not an adjective Maura would have picked but she knew Jane would have approved.

"Maura, honey, did I wake you?" Angela Rizzoli was standing at the bottom of the stairs, oven mitt on and pan in hand. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd just pop over and make you some soup," she smiled hopefully at the doctor.

Maura shook her head as she gained the ground floor, "Oh, Angela, you don't have to."

Angela led the way into the kitchen, picking up where she had left off at the cutting board. Maura eased herself onto one of the chairs at the island. The older woman looked so comfortable in Maura's kitchen, it was as if she had been cooking there her entire life. Maura was aware that Angela had taken it upon herself to rearrange the ME's kitchen, going so far as to label _everything_. She probably knew where things were better than she herself did, Maura mused.

"Maura?" the matriarch had paused in her chopping.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Angela. You really don't have to make me dinner."

"I know that, but I thought a good home-cooked Rizzoli meal would make you feel better!"

Maura smiled slightly as the mother slipped easily into her over-protective, mother hen role. She knew once the woman was started, it would be almost impossible to get a word in edgewise. Maura tried to interrupt before she could really get into the flow, "Angela, please. I'm not that hungry and I don't want to be an inconvenien-"

"Quiet, you!" Mrs. Rizzoli chided gently. "My real children won't let me cook for them, so it's the least I can do. Besides," she gave Maura a piercing look, "Janie was right. You're looking too worn out for your own good. A nice meal will set you straight. Mhmm." she began stirring a boiling substance with self-satisfied vigor.

"Jane said?" Maura couldn't help asking.

Mrs. Rizzoli stopped her bustling and came to a sudden halt. She came out from behind the island and circled around to Maura. "Now honey," she began, "you know I love you like my own child, and it hurts me to see the two of you so hurt and angry with each other. It's wearing on Jane, not being able to talk to her best friend. She misses you," with a pleading look, Angela took Maura's hand in her own. "It would make you both feel so much better to just set this all to rights."

Maura gently extricated her hand from the other woman's grasp. "I don't know, Angela," she couldn't meet the piercing gaze of the Rizzoli mother. "I sincerely doubt Jane will ever want to be my friend again, not after the way I've treated her."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Angela threw her hands into the air. "Jane misses you like crazy, and it's obvious you miss her, too. You are both just too stubborn for your own good," this last was mumbled as Angela turned back to her soup.

Maura sighed. She hated to disappoint the older woman. Angela had become something of a surrogate mother for the lonely doctor. Maybe Jane would forgive her. They had to sit down and talk about this. Maura knew that was the only way it would get fixed. But getting Jane Rizzoli to sit down and discuss her "feelings" was easier said than done.

The fuzzy feeling from her bath was gone, and a pounding behind her temples was taking its place. "Angela," Maura asked, "would you mind terribly if I rested until the soup is finished?"

"Of course not, dear. It shouldn't be too much longer."

"It smells delicious," Maura supplied as she stood up carefully. "Thank you," she attempted to put all of the gratitude she could muster into the words. She really was grateful to Angela. She hadn't once backed away from Maura, even though the doctor wouldn't have blamed her for taking her daughter's side.

"Anytime," Angela smiled at her lovingly. "I'll call you when it's ready."

Maura nodded and headed back upstairs. She sighed in appreciation as she lay down on top of her comforter. She hadn't planned on falling asleep, but she lost consciousness almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Angela watched Maura walk from the room. The doctor did not move with the graceful elegance she usually possessed. Instead she seemed hunched as if her shoulders were heavy, her head was bowed as if tired from holding up a great weight. "Janie was right," she mumbled to herself. "Hmph."

When she knocked lightly on Maura's bedroom door not fifteen minutes later, bearing a tray of her famous, homemade Rizzoli chicken noodle soup, there was no response. She peaked inside. The ME looked peacefully exhausted and Angela decided she needed sleep more than soup. She set down the tray and grabbed up one of the extra blankets, laying it gently over the sleeping form. "You're my daughter, too," she whispered lovingly. She shut the light off on her way out. Angela stored the soup in the refrigerator, cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, and quietly left for the guest house. It was time to call Jane.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: So, I know this update is super short, but I wanted to get out there for y'all. Plus: 2 updates in one day. Whoa. I hope you're sticking with me on this one. The Rizzles friendship (and then romance) is on its way. I'm thinking another two chapters or so. And the story won't stop there. Let me know what y'all are thinking!

* * *

Frost had invited Jane to go to the Robber after work, but she'd turned him down. She wanted some time to herself to process the day. When Jane got home, she glanced at her couch longingly, but Jo Friday was waiting, so she scooped up the little dog, and grabbed the leash hanging by the door. "C'mon then. Let's go for a walk."

While she strolled along, tugging now and again on Jo's leash, Jane's thoughts drifted back to Maura and their conversation earlier. Maura's insistence that she was fine was starting to worry the detective. Jane preferred to be in the know, to be on top of every situation, and the fact that Maura wasn't opening up to her made Jane worry that perhaps the medical examiner wasn't opening up to anyone. She knew Maura had been reserved and private before she and the doctor became friends. Hell, Maura was still one of the most private and professional people that Jane knew. But, with Jane, Maura had been willing to let her guard down. Jane wanted Maura to feel that way again, like she could trust the detective.

She wanted to be there for Maura and help through whatever it was that was going on. It couldn't just be the strain their argument was placing on her. There must be some other reason for Maura's exhausted appearance. Their talk from earlier had convinced Jane that the doctor was hurting from some other outside cause, not because of the fact that they had finally managed to have a civil conversation for the first time in months, but because Maura had simply sounded tired, weak, passive. She had sounded as though all the fight had left her.

Well, Jane could fight for both of them. She _would _fight for both of them. She was more than willing to go into the ring for Maura, and she wasn't about to let Maura's anger stop her from doing her damnedest to protect her friend.

Jane unlocked the door to her apartment, still lost in her mind. She hadn't even realized she'd been walking Jo for over an hour. As she unhooked Jo from the leash, her cell phone began to shrill violently on the kitchen counter. There was only one person that screeching tone was reserved for: Angela. Normally, Jane would have rolled her eyes in annoyance, but tonight, she lunged for the phone before the ringer could cut off. Angela should have had time to talk to Maura by now.

"Talk to me, Ma."

"Jane Rizzoli!" Angela's voice was sharp. Jane grimaced. "Is that how you answer your phone when it's your mother calling?"

Knowing better than to argue, Jane bit back her sarcastic response. "Sorry, ma. I just wanted to know if you talked to Ma- Dr. Isles - yet?"

"Hmph," Jane could hear her mother pouting over the phone. Mothers were not supposed to pout, but Angela Rizzoli could take down a teenager any day in that department. For her, pouting was an art form.

"Ma," Jane rubbed her face in frustration, "please."

"Alright, fine," Jane flopped back gratefully onto the couch. "You're right about Maura. She looked exhausted when I got there, almost as though she had been napping."

"Napping?" How un-Maura could Maura get?

"She misses you, Jane. She seemed so sad when I mentioned that you were asking after her."

"You told her I was asking about here?!" Jane's gravelly voice rose an octave.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli!"

"Dammit, ma!"

"Language!" Angela practically shouted over the phone. "You need to talk to her, Janie," her mother's voice softened. "Actually TALK to her."

"I know. I know that."

"She was asleep when I went in to check on her. I made some of Grandma's famous chicken noodle soup, but I didn't want to wake her."

Jane glanced at the clock. It was barely eight o'clock, which meant Maura must have crashed around seven. Jesus. Not even Maura was that lame. Usually she stayed up watching a documentary on the human nervous system or something just as boring and scientific. She must have been exhausted to fall asleep knowing Angela Rizzoli was in her kitchen.

"Alright."

"_Talk _to her, Jane."

"I will!" Jane relaxed a little. She knew her mother was only trying to help and do as Jane had asked. "I will, ma.

"She misses you."

"I miss her, too," Jane admitted.

"I just want my girls back."

"I know. I'll talk to her. I promise."

"I love you," her mother's voice was hesitant.

"I love you, too." Jane normally hated saying that to her mother, but she really did love Angela. Her mother could be overprotective, but she always tried to do right by her children and she had the biggest heart around. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight, Janie."

"Night," Jane ended the call and set the phone down on the coffee table. She dragged herself into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She contemplated hopping in for a warm shower, but decided the call of her bed was stronger. As she snuggled down into the covers and flipped off the light, Jane was already planning how to get Maura to open up to her again.

If she had to apologize again, so be it. Something was off, and Jane Rizzoli was going to fix it, no matter what. Maura needed her, and she would damn well be there. The doctor needed to know that she had people in her corner, and Jane was willing to reassure her friend of that fact. Starting tomorrow.

Jo Friday's toenails clacking across the hardwood flooring provided the only noise in the otherwise still apartment. She wandered into the bedroom and stared at her owner's sleeping form. Eventually, she hopped up onto the bed, curling her tiny body as close to Jane's as she could.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 for your viewing pleasure!

* * *

The next morning came too early for the sleepy detective. She reached out and managed to hit the alarm on the third try, turning off it's blaring noise. Jane rubbed her eyes forcefully, attempting to remove the sleep still stuck there. Deciding to get the day off to a good start, she went for a run, working out the stiffness in her muscles, took Jo for a quick walk around the block, and turned the coffee pot on while she hopped in the shower.

An hour later, a much more awake and relaxed Jane Rizzoli strode into the BPD. She carefully handed off a coffee to a (clearly) hungover Frost, plopped another with two sugars down on Korsak's desk and settled casually into her chair. Jane was determined that today was the day she would get through to Maura. And she was ready for whatever confrontation that might entail. The first sip of her own brew, technically her second cup of the day, had her eyes closed in appreciation of the wonders of caffeine.

"Long night, Frodt?" Korsak asked teasingly as he entered the room.

"Don't talk to me," Frost muttered.

Korsak laughed in response. "What's got his panties in a twist this morning?"

Jane looked fondly at her partner, now hunched over in his chair, "Well I would guess Frost had a hard time getting lucky last night. Had to drown your sorrows, Frost?"

Korsak chuckled. "I'll bet you five bucks he ended up home alone on his couch."

"I only take bets I know I can win, old man," Jane winked at him.

Frost finally seemed to notice he was the butt of a rather rude joke, so he crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it in Jane's general direction. Suffice it to say, it fell short. "Air ball!" Korsak said cheerfully.

"Too loud," Frost groaned and put his head on his desk.

"Let's hope we don't get a body today," Korsak pointed at Frost over his shoulder, "This one has a difficult enough time holding in his lunch as it is."

Jane nodded.

Lieutenant Cavenaugh suddenly strode through the doors, looking out of sorts, and all three detectives attempted to snap to some sort of attention. Frost failed miserably.

"Rizzoli!" he barked.

"Yes, sir?"

"I need you to run downstairs. Dr. Pike just called up with some lab results and he needs a detective."

"Dr. _Pike_ called up?" Jane questioned, but with one harsh look her way, it became, "Yes, sir. I'm on it."

"And Frost!"

"Sir?" Frost managed to mumble.

Cavenaugh looked down at him, "Drink that coffee and take a shower. You reek, Detective."

Korsak managed to stifle his laugh with a grunt, but Jane, waiting at the elevators, didn't even bother to hid her peal of mirth. Frost simply glared at the action figure on his desk, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. "Yes, sir."

When Jane entered the morgue a few moments later, she automatically glanced in the direction of Maura's office, but the door was closed and there was no light peeking through. Huh, maybe she was in the autopsy room and just couldn't be bothered to call up herself, or come up. She used to bring lab results upstairs herself when they came in. She would chat with Frost and Korsak and joke around with Jane. It helped break up a long day, and it always made both doctor and detective happier to spend some time together.

However, it was not the young doctor leaning over a body on he table, but, "Dr. Pike."

"Ah, detective. I see you finally managed to come downstairs to retrieve the lab results. I called up over twenty minutes ago."

Stupid, Pike. What an idiot. Jane straightened her shoulders and took on a more aggressive stance. "Well, yes, Doctor," she practically spit out the word. "I was a bit busy upstairs working on important police business. You know, solving murders."

Pike simply huffed under his breath. Jane waited impatiently for the lab results, but it didn't look like he was in any hurry to give them up.

"Where's Dr. Isles today?" Jane couldn't help asking.

"Dr. Isles," here Pike paused his work and glanced over at the closed office door with disdain, "called in sick."

"Sick?" Jane managed.

Pike nodded. "Apparently so. Although she was just on vacation, I can't see how she would need to take more time off."

Jane was shocked. Sure, Maura had taken vacation time, which was strange enough by itself, but Jane had never, _never _known the ME to take a sick day. She usually came into the office and muddled through until Jane forcibly drove her home. Perhaps there was an emergency of some kind. A family emergency? No, Angela would have gotten that out of the tight-lipped doctor. Plus, Maura couldn't lie. If she'd called in sick, she must actually be sick.

And for Maura to miss a day of work because of it, meant that it must have been serious. Maura had crazy self-motivation, and Jane knew she would force herself out of bed to at least make an appearance in the office. If she hadn't even bothered to come in, Jane was worried. Not just worried, if she was being honest. She was scared.

And, in that moment, while Pike was still muttering to himself about how lazy and inconsiderate he though his boss was, Jane made up her mind. She'd planned on talking to Maura that day anyway, no matter how badly the ME tried to shut her out. She would corner Maura if she had to, but if the doctor was at her house, that was where Jane needed to be as well. It was time to get to the bottom of this.

Jane turned abruptly on her heel. "Thanks!" she snapped at the older doctor and grabbed the file sitting on the counter, knowing it would contain the results Pike had originally called up about. Pike stared after her, as threw open the door to the stairwell, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

Jane jogged into the office, not even winded from her sprint up the steps. "Where's the fire?" Frost asked as Jane dropped the files on his desk. "Jane?"

Jane shrugged hastily into her suit jacket and shoved her keys and cell phone into her pocket.

"I'm taking the rest of the day," she grunted.

"Is everything okay?" Frost questioned.

"I'm going to Maura's."

"You're going to see the doc? Why?" the disbelief was evident in his tone.

"She called in sick, Frost," Jane finally looked up at him. "Maura Isles, who's never taken a sick day in her life."

Frost nodded. "But you, _you _are going to check up on her?"

Jane glared at him. "I knew something was off with her, Frost. And I don't just mean our fight. So I'm taking the rest of the day. Okay?"

Frost nodded again. "Alright. I'll cover for you."

"Thanks," the gratitude was evident in her voice.

She headed for the door. "Tell the doc we're thinking about her," Frost called to her retreating form and Jane waved over her shoulder to acknowledge him.

Frost glanced over to where Korsak was sitting, having watched the rushed exchange silently. "That was weird."

"Well," the younger detective opened the file Jane had given him, "maybe this means the cat fight is finally over."

"Looks like Jane's the one who's going to cave."

Frost smirked at him, "Pay up."

Korsak simply glared at him. "Respect, detective," but he reached for his wallet anyway and threw a twenty on Frost's desk.

* * *

Dr. Maura Isles had woken up that morning after a fitful night's sleep feeling more tired than she had when she'd gone to bed. Nightmares had kept her tossing and turning all night long, never allowing her more than three hours of sleep at a time. She couldn't recall what the dreams had been about, but she knew that Jane had featured prominently in most of them, and that she had woken with a sense of loneliness and despair each time.

Her head ached, her throat felt swollen and sore, and her body felt at times extremely hot and then extremely cold. Hot flashes. Maura wondered if her emotional stress was causing her body to merely react physically, or if she had actually managed to pick up some sort of germ. In the back of her mind, she knew that it most likely was connected to her frequent headaches, but she pushed that thought away. Stress. That was the factor here. Just stress.

And she knew that going into work today was not an option. She could barely pull herself out of bed, let alone drive to the morgue. Instead she called Pike to let him know that he would still be in charge today. She managed to make the conversation as short as possible, trying to ignore the blatant rudeness in the man's voice.

Maura called in sick. For the first time ever. And she could honestly care less. She avoided taking sick days because she was dedicated to her work and, in her own way, she didn't want to exhibit any weakness or vulnerability in the workplace. As the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Maura had an image to maintain. But at this moment, other people could think what they wanted about her.

The last thought she had before she rolled over and fell back asleep was that Jane was sure to find out. Maura hoped the detective wouldn't think Maura any more pathetic than she probably already did. Maura hated disappointing anyone's expectations, but most especially Jane's. She just wanted to recover, and then she could apologize and hopefully Jane would forgive her, and they could be friends again.

* * *

AN2: Let me know what you're thinking.


	10. Chapter 10

I didn't want to leave y'all hanging. Things are looking up! Kind of...

* * *

"Maura?" Jane's voice echoed throughout the still house. She'd knocked, but when no one answered, the detective let herself in with the spare key Maura'd given her years ago. She knew the doctor was home; her Prius was still parked in the driveway. Jane shrugged out of her jacket and threw it onto the hall table. She knew Maura would yell at her and tell her to hang it up later, but she didn't care.

As Jane made her way deeper into the house, she checked the rooms she passed. The ME wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so Jane headed for the stairs.

"Maura?" she called again, taking the stairs two at a time. When she reached the landing, she paused, waiting to see if the doctor would answer. No response.

Jane tapped lightly on the ME's bedroom door, and eased her way inside. Jane's heart gave a strange flutter at the sight of Maura all cuddled up in bed, her wavy blonde hair splayed out on the pillow. She was so still and pale that Jane thought for a split second something had gone horribly wrong. She froze, waiting, and then she saw it: the slow rise and fall of the covers, indicating that Maura was, indeed, breathing. Jane's shoulders relaxed unconsciously. The brunette walked over to the bed.

She watched her friend sleep for several minutes, debating whether or not to wake the doctor. Maybe it was better to just leave her asleep. If Maura wasn't feeling well, sleep would be the best thing for her. Besides, now that Jane had reassured herself that Maura wasn't deathly ill, she could still slip out and drive back to the precinct. Maura would never even have to know that Jane had stopped by.

The tall woman gave herself a mental slap upside the head. Now wasn't the time to be thinking like that. She'd stay, at least until Maura woke up or Angela got off of work. Maybe they weren't best friends anymore, maybe they never would be again, but making sure the doctor was taken care of while she wasn't able to take care of herself was the least Jane could do.

Great. Now that she'd settled that internal debate, how was she supposed to spend the time while she waited. Maybe she should heat up some of Angela's soup. Jane looked down at the still form again. Maura's cheeks were flushed and her breathing was bit shallow, but she still looked fast asleep.

The detective was about to head downstairs, having decided watching television would be less creepy than watching Maura sleep, when the doctor began to move fitfully. For a moment, Jane worried her presence had somehow woken the other woman, until she realized Maura was merely dreaming.

Her movements were becoming more restless as she turned her head from side-to-side. Maura's thin hands were opening and closing, grasping feebly at open air. Her lips were moving as though talking to someone and her forehead was creased as though in confusion or hurt.

"Please," Maura whispered." Please, don't go." There were tears running down the ME's cheeks. Jane didn't know what to do. She'd had plenty of nightmares herself, but she'd never witnessed anyone else having one. "Please. Stay with me. Jane!" At the sound of her own name, Jane crouched down beside the bed, reaching out and grabbing Maura's fumbling hand in her own.

"Shhh," she soothed. "Maur, it's alright." She rubbed the doctor's arm gently. "You're alright. Wake up, Maur. It's just a dream." Jane continued to whisper to the doctor, squeezing the doctor's hand until Maura's worried movements stilled and her eyes began to flutter open. "You're okay. It was only a dream."

"Jane?" Maura questioned, sleepily. Jane couldn't actually be here, could she?

"I'm here, Maura."

"Jane. But you left," tears welled up in Maura's hazel eyes. She turned her head away and tried to pull her hand out of the detective's grasp. Jane held on firmly. "You wouldn't stay. I begged you to stay, but you wouldn't."

Jane could hardly hear the muffled words. "It was just a dream, Maur. I'm right here," she assured the disoriented woman.

The dream was finally receding in her mind and Maura was becoming more aware of her actual surroundings. But she was still convinced Jane couldn't actually be present in her bedroom because, "You hate me."

The whispered conviction nearly broke Jane's heart. She shook her head sadly, "Oh, Maura, no." She reached out a hand to gently brush the hair out of Maura's face. Maura flinched slightly, but relaxed as Jane's fingers brushed along her cheek. Jane frowned; Maura was burning up. "I don't hate you, sweetie."

The term of endearment broke any control Maura had on her emotions. "Oh Jane," she cried. "I'm sorry. Please. I'm so sorry. Don't leave! Please! I'm sorry."

When Jane managed to get Maura to look at her, there were tears welling up in her eyes. She looked terrified and Jane wondered if the fever was affecting the doctor's lucidity. Maybe she should call Angela. She made as though to pull her hand away, but now it was Maura grasping at Jane as if she were the only thing keeping the doctor afloat.

"I'm sorry, Jane. Please."

"Maura, Maur, shhh. It's alright. I'm sorry, too, okay? I'm sorry, too." THis wasn't how Jane had imagined their reconciliation would play out. Maura wasn't supposed to be begging or looking so terribly frightened.

"Please," the smaller woman all but whimpered.

"Maura," Jane was lost. "I'm sorry. I'm right here." She scooted up onto the bed, pulling the shaking figure into her arms. "I'm sorry, too," she continued to apologize as she rubbed Maura's back gently. She worked her fingers through the ME's honey blonde hair soothingly.

"Please don't leave. Not again, Jane. I need you."

"I know, honey. I'm here now. It's alright." She whispered encouragingly into Maura's ear until the shaking stopped and she felt the other woman grow heavier against her. When she realized that Maura's breathing had evened out, she pulled away gently. Maura's eyes were closed; she'd fallen back to sleep, curled tightly into Jane. The detective eased her gently onto the pillows, wiping away the tear tracks still visible on the pale cheeks. She pulled the blankets up under Maura's chin.

"I'm so sorry, Maur. But, I'm here now," she said assuredly, cupping Maura's face in her hand. "We'll get through this." Jane slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked so if the blonde woke up again, Jane would hear her.

Jane rubbed her face tiredly and headed downstairs. She wasn't sure how much that encounter had been based solely on Maura's fever induced dream, but she was more than ready to continue apologizing, if that was what it took to wipe the look of abject fear off of Maura's face. Maura had been terrified when Jane woke her, that much was obvious. And anyone could tell the doctor's fears had everything to do with Jane. The detective may not have been sure how to proceed, but she was certain the doctor needed her, even if it was just because she was ill and vulnerable.

It might just have been the 24 hour flu bug, but Jane wasn't taking any chances. She didn't the experience of playing nursemaid. She whipped out her phone. Angela had raised three children, three very active and crazy children. She would know just how to handle a little fever.

The detective was well aware that once Maura started feeling better, the two were going to have to have an actual conversation, but this was a start. And for now, she would just focus on helping the doctor get better. Then they could deal with all their...issues. Jane sighed, hit send, and held the phone up to her ear.


	11. Chapter 11

Here we go, folks! Happy Sunday! Let me know what you think. I never imagined this would garner more than 20 reviews, let alone 100. Keep it comin'!

* * *

When Maura awoke next, the soft sunlight slanting through her window indicated that it was well into the afternoon. Her head hurt and she was having trouble focusing. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt slightly inflamed. She made as if to sit up, but her body was achy and uncooperative. Maura wondered briefly if this was what it felt like to grow old. Based on her symptoms, the doctor deduced that she was running a fever, and had slept the majority of the day away.

While she laid there, the blonde remembered pieces of a dream, a nightmare really. This one had been different from her usual ones in that it did not take place in the warehouse. No one had been shot or killed, but the emotional drain had been just as strong, if not stronger. Jane had informed Maura that she was leaving Boston, moving away, and that it was all the ME's fault. Maura had begged in the dream, pleaded with Jane not to leave. The doctor felt tears prick at her eyelids simply at the strength of emotion the memory provided.

But then, she faintly recalled being awoken from the nightmare, held and comforted. She remembered apologizing over and over again, not sure if she was still dreaming, and the other voice had responded, apologized as well, reassured her. The voice had been deep and rough and soothing, and the arms holding her had made Maura feel so safe, almost as if it had been...

There was light knock on the door, and as Maura shifted to view the opening, Jane strolled in. What was she doing here? Had it actually been the detective's arms wrapped firmly around Maura earlier, keeping her safe and grounded? No, it couldn't have been. Could it?

"Good. You're awake," Jane's relieved voice pulled her out of her musings. "I thought you were gonna sleep all day. I was going to wake you, but Ma said to let you sleep. She said it was the body's way of healing itself," Jane was rambling awkwardly, but Maura was still so confused.

Here eyes widened as Jane set down the tray she was holding. Water, soup, several pills which appeared to be Vitamin C tablets, and a glass of ginger ale. What was going on? Had Maura lost her mind? Was this merely another dream? Her imagination playing tricks on her by playing out what she most desperately wanted to be true?

"How are you feeling?" Jane asked, seemingly not to have noticed Maura's drifting.

"I - I - I'm alright," Maura's mouth finally managed to work. "I believe I may be running a temperature above the normal 98.6 degrees."

Jane nodded and proceeded to pick a thermometer up off of the tray. "Yeah, I found this in the bathroom." She looked somewhat sheepish as though worried Maura might reprimand her for snooping. When the doctor didn't answer, Jane stepped forward, holding it out as one would a peace offering, hand out, palm up.

Maura reached out shakily, and took it. Her fingers grazed Jane's hand, and she noticed a shiver work its way up the detective's outstretched arm. It was the first time they'd touched, and both been completely aware of the situation, in months. She placed the thermometer under her tongue and the two waited in charged silence until it beeped. Jane stretched forward and Maura couldn't help the automatic flinch which caused her to pull away slightly. Jane's hand froze and then moved forward and removed the instrument.

She avoided Maura's apologetic gaze, "101.7."

Maura hadn't meant to pull away and she immediately felt bad after seeing Jane's hurt look. She wasn't afraid of the detective, not in the slightest. She was well aware that Jane would never hurt her. But her mind seemed to be transferring emotional anxiety and uncertainty into a physical realm of reaction. She didn't mean to do it.

"That's not too bad," she murmured.

Jane handed her the water and the tablets, taking care not to allow their skin to touch. "Here," she said brusquely, attempting to mask the hurt she'd felt when Maura flinched away. "Vitamin C. Ma said it will help."

"Yes, the ascorbic acid will help to strengthen my immune system and help fight off whatever virus strain it seems I have contracted."

It was a testament to how strange the situation was that Jane didn't even roll her eyes at Maura's more scientific explanation. But the doctor could have sworn she'd seen a twitch in Jane's cheek muscles, hinting at a smile.

"Thank you," Maura sighed gratefully, handing over the now empty glass and leaning back into the pillows.

"Are you hungry?" Jane asked, looking pointedly at the soup. "I heated it up. Figured I couldn't burn something in the microwave."

Maura smiled. She was well aware that her body should be craving some sort of sustenance, but the thought of putting anything in her stomach caused her to become instantly nauseous. "No, thank you," she declined politely.

Jane sighed, "Ma told me that I have to get you to eat."

The thought of Jane willingly calling her mother for advice made Maura's tear ducts act up again. She seemingly had no control over her emotional responses today. Maura was well aware that Detective Rizzoli abhorred taking advice from her overprotective and over-involved mother. And that she had taken such action for Maura's well-being was such an act of benevolence that Maura was awestruck.

When Maura didn't respond, Jane shrugged. "I'm not going to force you. Maybe later." She made as if to leave, but Maura reached out and grabbed her wrist, freezing Jane on the spot.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly.

Jane stared at where Maura had her in her grasp, "Pike said you called in sick."

Maura nodded, "But you didn't have to come."

Jane looked slightly offended as she stared down into Maura's eyes. "I'm your friend, Maura. That's what friends do. We look out for each other. But if you don't want me here, I can go," she pulled out of Maura's weak hold. The tension in the room had mounted exponentially in just a few short seconds.

"No!" Maura lowered her voice, "Please. I just, I didn't, I wasn't aware that you cared."

"I'll always care," Jane spoke simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. But Maura knew it was taking everything the brunette possessed to remain so nonchalant. Jane hated opening up, expressing emotion and care.

Maura did the only thing left for her to do, the thing she'd been attempting for the past several weeks. "I'm sorry." Jane's brown eyes stared into her own. "I'm sorry," she reiterated a bit louder, unsure whether the detective had heard her. Jane still didn't react. "I - I don't know exactly what took place, but I am aware that you were here earlier. That you helped. And I'm sorry that you had to do that, take care of me in that manner."

Jane deflated. "Maur-"

But Maura interrupted. This wasn't coming out properly and she needed Jane to fully understand her. The eloquence and ease with which she easily spoke was lost to the doctor. "And I'm sorry for...well, for everything else. Jane, I'm so, so sorry."

"Maura, I -"

"And I know it isn't enough, and I know you may not ever forgive me, but I'm just - I'm sorry," she was crying now, tears running freely down her cheeks. But she didn't attempt to wipe them away. She simply sat, waiting for, for what, she didn't know.

Jane paused, as though to make sure Maura wasn't going to interrupt again. She took a deep, fortifying breath, "I'm sorry, too," she admitted.

Maura let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. "I'm sorry," she reaffirmed.

Jane smiled slightly at her. "I know. Me, too."

Maura wiped at her cheeks. "We need t-to talk about this."

The brunette nodded, "Okay. But not right now."

Maura glanced at her, trying to read her friend. They both had a habit of avoiding difficult conversations, the last three months were a testament to that.

Jane was quick to add, "We will talk. I promise. I know an apology doesn't just set everything to rights. But not now. You're not feeling well and you're exhausted. You need to sleep."

Satisfied that Jane was telling the truth about talking later, she realized the detective had also been correct with her diagnosis. The tension filled atmosphere and conversation had been extremely draining on her body's already depleted resources. She already felt as if the good effects of her sixteen hours of sleep were wearing off. Her headache was becoming more prominent the longer she sat up.

One round of apologies would have to be enough for now. Hopefully when she woke again, they wouldn't have lost any progress that may have just been made. Maura couldn't control that at the moment, however. It took all she had to nod in affirmation at Jane and then sink down into the mattress. Jane had reorganized the tray and was heading for the door. Maura could feel sleep dragging her down.

"Jane," she managed. The brunette turned in the doorway. "Don't leave?"

Whether it was the innocence of the question, making Maura sound almost childlike, or the vulnerability in the sleepy woman's voice, Jane felt her heart jump. "I'll be right here," she promised.

"Thank you," Maura sighed, allowing her body to fully relax and unconsciousness to claim her, content that things would get better, maybe not immediately, but they would. Jane was here, watching over her, and she was safe.


	12. Chapter 12

Just a short little snippet to get the week off to a good start. Hope y'all are sticking with me on this one. The next chapter's a long one! Let me know what you're thinking.

* * *

Jane closed the lid on the glass storage container and replaced the soup in the fridge. That had been...unexpected. She still couldn't really believe they'd both just apologized. She'd never imagined it would be so easy. And sure, it didn't magically make everything better: Jane was still hurt and angry, Maura was still sick, and probably still upset, too, but Jane would take it. Baby steps. For once in her life, Jane Rizzoli was pleased with a couple of stupid little baby steps. She even caught herself smiling like a maniac about it. Ridiculous.

She flopped down on the couch and flipped on Maura's flatscreen. The detective attempted to focus on the game highlights from the night before, keeping one ear cocked in the direction of the bedroom, but she kept getting distracted by her thoughts. She couldn't get the image of Maura waking up from her nightmare earlier out of her mind.

The blonde had seemed so frightened, almost like a small child. And just now, when she'd been falling back to sleep, she'd asked Jane not to leave. The detective had been planning on heading home as soon as Angela got back; she had to let Jo Friday out after all. Jane decided she should stay though, so when Maura woke next, she'd still be around.

She picked up her phone and dialed the third number on her speed dial. "Frankie?" Her brother had a midnight shift that night. "Hey, could you do me a huge favor?" She groaned inwardly, "In it for you? Hell, just be thankful I'll admit to being related to you. Haha, very funny," she said sarcastically. "Can you swing by and let Jo out on your way in tonight? I'm not sure what time I'll be home...Thanks, little bro." A pause. "Not a date. No! Mind your own damn business," she snapped.

Jane didn't know why she cared so much if her brother found out she was at Maura's. He would know soon enough anyone since Angela knew. Her mother would most likely be shouting it from the rooftops for all of Boston to hear as soon as she discovered that her girls might be on the way towards a reconciliation. He would definitely find out, but Jane didn't want to tell him just yet. There was still the chance that Maura would rescind her apology or have a change of heart, and Jane couldn't take the chance of looking like a fool in front of her younger brother.

"Listen, just let Jo out for me, okay? I'll fill you in later. Mhmm. Bye," she ended the call.

Now what? No news from Frost and Korsak meant they didn't have any new information. She considered calling, but figured they'd check in if they needed her. Instead, she stood and stretched. Maybe she'd go peek in on Maura again. Just to make sure the doctor didn't need anything.

The small woman was sleeping peacefully when Jane poked her head in. Good. She could go back downstairs now and veg out in front of the TV. Relax, she growled at herself, still watching Maura. C'mon, Rizzoli. Downstairs.

But the thought that Maura might have another nightmare, or wake thinking Jane had gone home when she'd promised to stay, that this whole day had been a dream, made Jane anxious. After shifting from foot to foot for several minutes, she stepped inside the darkening bedroom and closed the door behind her. She walked over to the right side of the bed, put her gun and badge in the drawer there, and climbed slowly onto the mattress. She curled up on her side, facing Maura.

Jane watched the doctor sleep, trying not to think about how weird and creeping she was being. Trying to convince herself that this was real and that she and Maura were on their way to some sort of truce. That she was laying in bed with her best friend, playing nurse. That she'd finally be able to find out what was causing the doctor to run herself ragged, and, if it was her own fault, that she might have the opportunity to put things to rights.

Jane felt her eyelids get heavy as she found her own chest rising and falling in time to Maura's. She leaned over, and, without thinking about it, gently pressed her lips to Maura's temple. Jane hated signs of affection, kissing, hugging, everything. So, maybe it was weird that she'd never given the amount of physical contact in her relationship with Maura a second thought.

With Maura, Jane didn't mind the occasional hug or kisses on the cheek goodbye, or even holding hands now and then. She usually just went with whatever felt right. And as her lips left the ME's forehead, she smiled slightly. Yes, this was starting to feel right again.

"I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere," Jane vowed. She snuggled into Maura's 10000 count Egyptian cotton sheets and allowed herself to drift off.

When Jane next woke, it was completely dark in the room, the clock read 3:10 am. At some point, she must have shifted in her sleep, because she was now only inches away from the passed out doctor. Her hand was resting on Maura's outstretched arm. Jane didn't move from her position, but instead watched her bed partner. The detective was surprised she'd managed to fall asleep for so long, and that Angela hadn't come barging in to wake them up when she got home. Oh well.

Maura's breathing was becoming more rapid and she began shifting uncomfortably in her place. This must have been what woke Jane in the first place. Maura's lips were pursed in a frown and as her movements became more agitated, she began to mumble unhappily. Jane assumed it was another bad dream, and when she caught her name in the mumbling, she was sure. Not wanting to completely wake the doctor, simply calm her, Jane shifted closer and rubbed her hand soothingly up and down Maura's arm.

She started whispering to the other woman. Just sweet little comforts. She wasn't even sure what words were leaving her mouth, simply a continuous litany of reassurances. And it appeared to be working. Maura eventually stilled her rustlings and her body relaxed. Jane didn't stop whispering until she was sure the dream had passed and the smaller woman's breathing had completely evened out.

Maura suddenly rolled over, tossing a hand across Jane's stomach. Jane stopped breathing, unsure what to do. She could try and scoot away, or she could simply lay there, content that Maura was comfortable and safely out of her nightmare. Choosing the second option, Jane waited until the doctor's face regained the passive peacefulness of deep sleep, then allowed herself to slip back into unconsciousness as well.


	13. Chapter 13

Here we go, y'all. I've got a pretty good idea of where this is going, but comments, suggestions, and/or concerns are always much appreciated. It isn't going to be just instantaneous rainbows and butterflies, so stick with me. Thanks so much!

* * *

Maura woke the next morning disoriented and unsure if the past twenty-four hours had actually occurred. She recalled asking Jane not to leave, but seeing as she'd slept through the night, the doctor wouldn't blame Jane if she'd left. Jane had her own apartment and pet to get to after all.

Maura lay still for several moments, assessing her physical condition. She certainly felt better and more alert than she had the day before. Her head was still fuzzy and she wasn't sure if she was running a temperature, but even if she was, the medical examiner had to get to work. She'd slept late as it was. Going in to the BPD meant getting out of bed, not a task Maura was looking forward to.

She sat up too quickly, causing her vision to blacken on the edges and dark spots to appear in her line of sight. However, she'd become accustomed to these head rushes and waited patiently for it to pass, taking deep breaths to increase the oxygen flow to her brain. She stood more carefully than she'd sat up, and was rewarded by feeling fairly steady on her feet. The doctor ran through her morning routine in her head and decided to head downstairs for a glass of water and to feed Bass before getting in the shower. She wasn't sure if anyone would have fed the tortoise yesterday.

Walking into the kitchen, Maura froze and resisted the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief. Detective Jane Rizzoli, hair still damp from a shower and curling widely about her face, dressed in jeans and a Boston Homicide softball t-shirt, was sitting at her island countertop, coffee cup in hand and paper open to the sports section before her.

Jane must have registered the doctor's surprised intake of breath, because she peered calmly over the top of the newspaper. "Good morning, Dr. Isles." The title didn't sound overly formal on Jane's tongue as it had for the past several months and Maura recognized the slight tease in the detective's raspy voice.

"You're here," was all Maura could say.

"I am," Jane replied simply.

"Well I-I-I just thought you'd be gone."

Jane was starting to look a little anxious, her cocky expression drooping at Maura's reaction to finding her in the kitchen. "I can leave if you wa-"

"No!" Maura clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at her outburst. Jane merely raised an eyebrow. "No, it's fine."

"Okaaaay. Come sit down." The brunette vacated her own stool. "I'll get you something for breakfast."

"I should really go an-a-and get ready for work. We're already late," Maura stuttered, edging back towards the stairs.

"No, you shouldn't," Jane responded.

"I shouldn't?"

"I called us in."

"Called us in?" she couldn't stop parroting the detective's statements.

"Yeah. You know, like, called in sick."

"But you aren't sick," Maura pointed out.

"No, but _you _are."

"Well, I, that, it's, I'm feeling much better, Jane. You didn't have to do that. I need to get back to work." Maura was a bit upset that Jane hadn't consulted with her first, but at the same time, she was touched Jane had thought to give her an extra day to recuperate.

"No," Jane disagreed. "You were running a 102 fever yesterday, Maur. You need at least a day to just relax and build up white cells or whatever. So, I called us in sick," she slammed a loaf of bread down on the countertop.

"Jane," Maura tried, not sure how to respond, if she should thank the other woman or be angry.

"Sit," Jane said again, the authority evident in her tone, pointing at a chair. And Maura sat.

It really was quite nice of Jane to take care of her, but the doctor hated to be an inconvenience. She'd striven her whole life to remain independent so that those around her didn't have to go out of their way to care for her well-being. She wasn't used to people simply wanting to help. "Jane, you really don't have to take the day off as well. I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself."

"Jesus," Jane groaned. "It's like pulling teeth with you," Maura stared at her blankly. "It's an expression, Maur."

"Oh."

"You don't always have to do everything yourself, you know," Jane rebutted. "Sometimes it's okay to let others pull some of the weight, too."

Maura didn't know what to say, so she opted for silence, watching as Jane puttered around the kitchen, pouring juice and making toast.

Jane seemed to feel uncomfortable in the silence, and began to chatter while they waited, "So, like I said, I called us in. The guys weren't too happy about another day with Pike, but, eh, they'll get over it. Korsak said to tell you, 'Get well soon.' Oh, and I fed the turtle."

"Tortoise," Maura corrected automatically and Jane gave her a devilish grin. "Thank you," Maura said softly as the detective set a glass of water and several vitamins down in front of her.

"You're welcome." The cook finished buttering two pieces of whole-grain toast and set those, too, in front of the patient.

Maura's stomach lurched at the sight of the food. She was aware of her hunger. Aware that her digestive system was still functioning, even with the lack of proper nutrients she had been providing. But the thought of actual food caused her to gag involuntarily. "I don't think I can eat this," she said aloud.

Jane noticed the sudden pallor in the ME's skin tone. Nonetheless, "Just a few bites," she instructed. Maura still hesitated. "I didn't want to have to do this, but I _will _call down Hurricane Angela on you if I need to. She would be only too happy to force feed you all manner of foodstuffs."

Maura grimaced. She loved the Rizzoli matriarch, but she wasn't sure she was feeling well enough to handle her boundless energy and prying conversation that morning.

"I let you get away with the soup yesterday, but you need to eat something, Maur."

Maura glanced up to find Jane watching her, concern radiating from her in waves. "Just a little, okay?" Jane motioned with her hand, cupping Maura's cheek gently. "You need to get some color back."

The detective pulled away so quickly, Maura thought she'd dreamed it. But she put her hand up to her face, certain that she could feel a burning mark on her skin from where Jane's fingers had been. It was only five seconds, but it felt like ages had passed. Maura stared at Jane and when the brunette gave her an encouraging nod, she squared her shoulders, stealing her resolve, and reached for the toast. Taking small bites and chewing slowly, the doctor managed to avoid her gag reflex. Jane, seemingly satisfied, went back to the paper. She didn't seem to have been as affected by the touch as Maura had been, and the doctor wondered why she had had such a visceral reaction to the small sign of affection.

Relying on her advanced understanding of body language, Maura studied Jane's profile. To an outside observer, the detective appeared completely at ease, but Maura noticed the tense muscles in Jane's neck and back, indicating that she was holding herself upright and still out of some other discomfort. The doctor wondered if Jane was uncomfortable being around her still, and if she should address the elephant in the room, or wait to have that conversation until a later time.

Jane caught Maura staring at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Maura blushed down at her now empty plate. "Jane, I-"

But Jane caught her off, "I know, okay. We'll talk. We will. But not today." It was a question.

Maura acquiesced with a slight nod. "Not today."

Jane placed her hand on Maura's and gave a squeeze and then she picked up the plate and headed for the sink. Once again, the light touch quickened Maura's heartbeat and caused her to feel a drop in her stomach.

"I should call Dr. Pike to check in," she decided aloud, attempting to quell whatever emotions the physical contact had elicited in her.

"Oh, no,' Jane wagged a finger at her. "You're on house arrest today, Doctor. No work for you."

"But-"

Jane shut her down with a glare.

"Well then, what are we going to do today, _Detective_," Maura emphasized the title.

Jane smirked, "I think it's high time for us to continue your pop culture education."

Maura looked at her askance.

"Star Wars, my dear," Jane teased. "It's the perfect day for your introduction. You aren't complete until you've seen the originals. It's a rite of passage."

Maura smiled slightly. She was well aware that if she asked, Jane would watch anything the doctor wanted, even a boring, old documentary about the history of ancient medicine. But Maura couldn't help but be curious about one of Jane's favorite things, and, what the detective had so eloquently dubbed the "best trilogy, like, ever."

"Alright," she agreed. "But I need to shower first and get out of these clothes," she looked down at her rumpled outfit with distaste.

Jane snorted, "Okay. Living room in thirty minutes."

"45?" Maura asked, knowing her still aching body would appreciate the steam.

"Fine," Jane groaned. "Oh, but Maura, fist," Jane came around the island and approached the doctor. She waved the thermometer she'd picked up off the counter.

"Jane, I-" Maura was stopped by the taller woman taking the opportunity to stick the instrument under Maura's tongue. She snapped her mouth closed. They stood next to one another in silence for fifteen seconds until the beeping noise indicated a reading. Maura tried to ignore thinking about how her body reacted to the close proximity she and the detective were to one another. She tried, but she didn't succeed.

Jane took the thermometer; once again oblivious to the effect she was having on the doctor. "99.8. Oooh, you are definitely staying home today, Doc."

"That's not too high," Maura protested.

"Better get back into some pj's after your shower," Jane smirked, knowing just how kindly Maura would take to the suggestion. "It's movie marathon day," she whistled her way into the living room.

Maura was left behind contemplating the thought of actively avoiding getting dressed all day long. It wasn't right, she decided as she headed for the bathroom. It just wasn't right. Yoga pants would have to do.

All thoughts of the tension between herself and the other woman, the effect Jane was having on her body, her headache, and residual fever fled as Maura entered the steam of the shower. For the first time in months, Maura allowed the jetting water to completely relax her, happy in the knowledge that Jane was in her living room, and they were going to be spending the day together. They would have that talk at some point and then they would be friends again. Maybe it wouldn't be that easy and things would still be strained for a while, but Maura felt that she could finally, finally, relax.


	14. Chapter 14

It might be slow going, folks, but I don't think things happen overnight. And, like I said, I'm really more of a character writer than anything else. Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for the awesome reviews and sticking with me!

* * *

When Maura came back downstairs, feeling relaxed after her shower, her hanging down her back she walked into the living room to find Jane sitting on the couch, TV turned on to ESPN, and her laptop open in front of her.

"Hey," Jane said, shutting the screen quickly. "Well, you look comfortable. How are you feeling?" She indicated for the Me to take a seat on the other end of the couch and flipped over the television to the DVD player. The Star Wars menu was already up and running.

"I'm feeling," Maura wasn't sure how to answer the question, "better," she decided.

"Well, good," Jane responded. "You ready for this?"

Maura nodded.

"I got you some water and some juice. I wasn't sure what you would want."

Maura looked to where Jane was pointing and was touched to see two glasses set on the side table.

"I thought I'd make popcorn later. Your healthy kind without any butter," Jane's face exhibited her clear dislike. Maura smiled. "Maybe you'll be hungry?"

"Maybe," the doctor felt bad. She knew Jane was feeling uncomfortable and unsure. She wished she could do something to help set the detective at ease. "Can we start the movie?"

"Oh, right. Sure." Jane pressed play and leaned back with a happy sigh as 'A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...' began to scroll down the screen.

Maura, too, settled back onto her end of the sofa. She could sense the tension in the room, swirling between the two women. They'd spent many days off curled up on the couch watching television, just hanging out, and Maura was hoping that the normalness of the situation, the routine, would lend itself to diffusing some of the residual awkwardness. She couldn't help herself from sneaking glances at Jane now and then, trying to determine what the other woman was thinking. Jane was usually fairly easy to read; her body language and expressive brown eyes gave her away. But right now, Maura was having trouble decoding the front Jane was presenting. Perhaps she was out of practice, the doctor mused.

She was also aware that Jane was looking over at Maura more often than was warranted. She tried to focus on the movie when she could feel Jane's gaze on her, but it was challenging. All she wanted to do was meet Jane's stare with one of her own. To ask what was going on in the brunette's head.

About an hour in, Maura began to get caught up in the story line. She couldn't help herself from commenting on the probability of the technologies and physics involved several times. Each time the words left her mouth, Maura tensed, afraid she might have annoyed her fellow movie viewer. Nervous that any wrong word or misplaced comment could destroy the relative truce the two had created.

Jane's posture seemed to relax as Maura pointed out the flaws, however. Perhaps the normalcy of the comments, how truly 'Maura' they were made the detective more comfortable. And, after the fourth time it happened and Jane didn't snap, Maura decided to simply relax as well.

The movie ended several hours later and both women, although still sitting upright and apart had both seemed to become calmer in their respective positions.

"Would you like a refill?" Jane asked, indicating the empty water glass in front of Maura.

"Oh, I can get it," Maura started to get up, but Jane pushed her down gently by the shoulder, removing her hand as quickly as though unsure of the contact. Once again, Maura felt the sparking sensation where Jane's hand had been. She wondered if Jane had felt it too this time as the detective seemed to let go rather uncomfortably.

"Let me," she snatched up the glass and headed for the kitchen. "What did you think?" she called. "Want to go for the second one?"

"Sure," Maura called back. She had enjoyed the first film and had no desire to leave the couch. She really was feeling better and felt certain that all of the sleep the day before had helped her body recuperate. Her head was still throbbing at the base of her skull, but she hadn't really expected that annoyance to go away with whichever strain of the flu she had contracted. She rubbed her neck, trying to relieve some of the tension there, but pulled her hands away quickly when Jane reentered the room.

Jane set the glass down, plus one for herself and then went over to change the movie.

"How is your case going?" Maura decided to try small talk.

Jane looked over her shoulder at the doctor. "Fine, I guess. Frost and Korsak are meeting with the families today. If there's anything new or noteworthy, they'll call."

"I thought we were on house arrest," Maura teased.

"_You _are on house arrest," Jane joked. "Me, I'm free to come and go as I please. Here," she handed Maura the thermometer as she settled back on the couch. "I thought we should keep an eye on your fever, make sure it doesn't jump back up or anything."

"That was thoughtful of you, Detective. Thank you."

"What can I say?" Jane smirked.

"99.4. It's getting better. I would expect it to be gone by this evening if I continue to take it easy."

"Good!" Jane smiled at Maura and Maura couldn't resist smiling back, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. "Ready?"

Maura nodded and Jane pressed play.

Halfway through, the doctor could feel her eyes growing heavy. Her head felt like a ton of bricks had settled on top of it, hyperbole as it may have been. She debated for several moments about asking Jane to pause the movie so she could go up to lay in bed, but decided she didn't want to disrupt the fragile stillness the two found themselves in. Instead, she awkwardly curled herself up on her side of the sofa, her head resting on the throw pillow, her feet pulled up to her side to give Jane her space.

Jane, entirely engrossed in the movie, pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it over Maura's form, seemingly unconsciously. Maura was touched and she gave Jane's profile a small smile which the detective either missed or purposefully ignored. Jane kept doing little things like that: covering her up, making breakfast, keeping her hydrated. She was also doing huge things as well, things like coming over, taking the day off, electing to spend the entire day sitting on Maura's couch instead of chasing bad guys. Maura wondered if the detective needed a day off as much as she had. She was aware that Jane had been pushing 60 and 70 hour work weeks lately. Even when they weren't speaking, Maura still kept tabs on the detective via Angela, Detective Frost, and sometimes even Lieutenant Cavenaugh. But, even if Jane had needed a 'sick day,' Maura was well aware that it didn't have to include spending hours at her house.

She was feeling incredibly grateful Jane had stayed when she'd asked. That Jane had come over and they had gotten over the first hurdle in rekindling their relationship. That Jane had agreed to even be Maura's friend all those years ago. Maura realized how empty and lonely her life had seemed for the past several months without Jane there, making her laugh, taking her out with the guys, teaching her about baseball. She hadn't fully appreciated how much vibrancy Jane brought with her wherever she went, how her boundless energy filled a room.

Yes, they had to have that talk, but Maura had agreed to wait, to simply bask in one another's company for the day. And she was so happy she discovered to do just that. To sink deeper into the couch cushions, blanket pulled up to her chin, knowing Jane was there.

Maura's legs extended automatically, seeking a more comfortable position. When her feet came into contact with Jane's leg, she pulled back quickly, not having realized how far into Jane's territory she had stretched. Surprisingly, however, Jane reached under the covers, picked up Maura's sock clad feet and deposited them in her lap. It was a reflex, so fast Maura couldn't react. But she sighed happily as she was able to stretch out to her full height. Her body relaxed completely as she felt, rather than saw, JAne lean back into the cushions and swing her own feet up on the coffee table. Normally, the doctor had a strict rule against putting feet where they were not meant to be, but she wouldn't have made Jane move for the world.

The doctor gave in to her exhaustion with a smile on her face, letting Han Solo's sarcastic voice lull her into oblivion.

* * *

Once Jane was certain the doctor's breathing had evened out and she was completely asleep, the detective paused the movie and flipped back to ESPN, muting the sound so as not to bother her dreaming companion. She pulled her laptop onto her lap, making sure not to jostle Maura. As Jane had joked earlier, the doctor may have been on house arrest for the day, but Jane could still get some work done. Frost had been emailing her any new information as it popped up and Jane had been looking into several different potential leads.

She'd been pleasantly surprised when Maura had agreed to the movie marathon, figuring the doctor's overworked body would probably crash at some point. She'd gotten up early that morning and gone for a run before the doctor was up. She'd talked to Angela and Korsak, calling in sick for Maura as well. Jane knew she didn't have to, that Maura was a big girl and could take care of herself, but Jane was overprotective of those she loved. She definitely got it from Angela, although the younger woman was less enthusiastic about voicing her opinions and emotions.

She hadn't been able to stop herself from gravitating towards the ME throughout the morning. The quick touches she and the ME had shared had set all of her nerve endings alight, and she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, to make sure she had on a completely nonchalant expression whenever she caught Maura's eye. Jane wasn't exactly sure what was going on, or why she was reacting so ridiculously to being in the doctor's company, but she sure as hell knew that she didn't want the ME to find out. Maura was always so composed and in charge of her emotions. Jane didn't want the ME thinking something that wasn't true, even if she knew the doctor wouldn't just jump to any conclusions. Jane was still certain that she needed to keep her reactions to her herself, whatever they might be indicating.

So, she spent the afternoon on the couch, Maura's feet in her lap, researching several different leads and watching sports. She debated waking the smaller woman up for lunch, but, remembering the way Maura had had to choke down the toast, decided she'd wait. If Maura woke up hungry, Jane would only be too happy to fix something. She wasn't that hungry herself and was certainly too content to consider leaving her position on the couch.

The detective had to admit babysitting the sick woman wasn't half bad. If she had to spend all day on a couch, Maura's was the coziest around. Plus, it was nice to get out of the Brick for a day. Jane had been pulling some fairly crazy hours, trying to keep busy and stay distracted. Work had always been her escape when things in her personal life, with her family or another failed relationship or friendship were draining on her. But now that she and Maura were starting to work things out, she was only too happy for a day off. Plus, this way she could take some time for herself and keep an eye on the medical examiner. It was a win-win.


	15. Chapter 15

Whoa. This one got away from me a little bit. Let me know what y'all think.

* * *

When Angela returned home in the early evening, she found the girls still on the couch. Jane put a finger to her lips, indicating the sleeping patient, and Mrs. Rizzoli nodded.

"I thought I'd make some dinner," she whispered.

"Something light," Jane said. "She's hardly eaten anything."

"Alright," Angela smiled at the picture before her, Maura curled up, Jane at the other end of the couch, watching over her friend. She wondered how long they'd been positioned that way, well aware that her daughter normally struggled with sitting still for anything much longer than an hour. Maura appeared to be the exception to that rule.

"Thanks, Ma," Jane said gratefully.

"I'll be out in a bit!" Angela headed for the kitchen, stopping to give Bass a pat on the shell as she passed.

She brought out two bowls of split pea soup an hour later. Neither woman appeared to have moved. "You'd better wake her up, Janie, otherwise she won't sleep tonight," the cook ordered, setting down a bowl in front of each of her daughters.

"Ma? What is _that_?" Jane asked, more than a little grossed out. "It looks like puke."

Angela slapped her grown child gently on the side of the head. "It's bland, so it won't upset Maura's stomach. Plus, it's healthy. Vegetables."

"Well, I'm not sick. Do I seriously have to eat it, too?"

Angela glared at the brunette. "Is that I how raised you? Whining over a decent, home-cooked meal made with love an-an-and affection?" she successfully slapped Jane again, as the detective tried to squirm away.

Jane had the decency to look slightly apologetic, not wanting to set her mother off.

"Now. Wake up Maura. It tastes better while it's warm," she bustled off, back to the kitchen.

Jane shifted on the couch, leaning over so she could reach the ME's shoulder, kind of impressed Maura had managed to sleep through their little spat in the first place. "Maur. Maur, wake up. Ma made us soup. Really...gross looking soup," she glanced at the green lumpy substance as if it were about to jump out of the bowl and bite her. "Maura," she said again and the doctor shifted under her hand. J

"Don't wanna get up," she mumbled into the pillow.

"C'mon," Jane coached. "Let's get some dinner into you and then it can be bedtime. Officially."

"The movie," Maura disagreed, rubbing her eyes.

Jane grinned. Sleepy Maura was cute. Wait. What? Shit. "We can finish our marathon another day. Now, sit up. You gotta eat. We don't want Ma in here shoving it down our throats."

"How long did I sleep?" Maura asked, surveying the soup as she would a sample in her lab. "I didn't even hear your mother get in."

"I know. Impressive. You'll have to teach me how you do that," Jane took a mouthful and made a face. "Although, she was uncharacteristically quiet."

Maura giggled at Jane's expression and then made her own puckered face when she took her first bite. The soup wasn't bad, just not...tasteful. Maura was thankful that she was no longer as nauseous as earlier however.

Mrs. Rizzoli came in several minutes later, glancing pointedly at the two empty bowls with a satisfied smile. "Maura, dear, how are you feeling?" she asked, laying a hand on the grown woman's forehead as if she were still merely a child. "Hmm..still a bit warm."

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you so much for dinner, Angela. The soup was very, em, nourishing."

Jane snorted, but assumed an innocent front when her mother stared her way.

"Did Jane took good enough care of you today? You know, I offered to stay, but she insisted."

"Ma," Jane hissed.

"What?" her mother asked.

"Jane was very attentive," Maura affirmed, glancing over at her friend who was still glaring daggers at her mother and gave her a small smile. Jane smiled back. "I'm afraid I wasn't a very interesting patient, however. All I seem able to do is sleep."

"It's fine," Jane mumbled. Suddenly the lanky detective stood and stretched, working out her stiff muscles. "Well," she said, "I guess I'll be heading out now that you've eaten and Ma's here."

Maura's face fell. She'd been hoping Jane would at least stay until she was asleep. She'd slept so soundly all afternoon and knew it was due in part to the other woman's comforting presence. "You're leaving?"

"I, yeah," Jane ran her hand through her tangled curls, not sure what Maura's reaction indicated. "I figured you'd want to be getting to bed soon. Get another good night's sleep before work tomorrow and everything."

"Oh, well, yes. I suppose."

Inside, Jane felt disappointed that Maura hadn't asked her to stay like she'd done the night before. It was selfish and strange and she wasn't comfortable trying to understand _why _exactly it felt so horrible to be leaving, but she refused to stay unless the doctor asked. She didn't want to overstay her welcome.

Angela was watching the two girls interact with a curious expression on her face. "Jane," she interjected, and both women turned to look at her. "Why don't you stay? At least until Maura gets to sleep. I as hoping to head home myself. I've had _such _a _long _day at the café, you know."

Jane gaped at her mother. Angela Rizzoli was a well-spring of energy. There was no way she was seriously begging off nursing duty. She lived for the day that she got to fuss over any of her children, and that included the ME.

Angela was looking pointedly at Jane and Maura looked at her, too, amused to see Jane's mouth opening and closing like a fish out of a water. The detective was actually at a loss for words. "Sure," she let out an explosive breath. "I can stay. I guess. But only if it's okay with you?" she turned to Maura a question written all over her face.

"Yes, please," Maura said, trying not to sound overenthusiastic at getting what she wanted.

"Let me just call Frankie and ask him to let Jo out then."

"Oh! I already asked him, Janie," Angela looked slightly embarrassed.

"Ma," Jane managed to both whine and threaten with a single word.

Maura covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. The Rizzoli's were definitely back.

"I'll just get these dishes out of the way for you and then I'll be in the guest house if you need anything. I'm glad you're feeling better, Maura," she patted Maura's knee and made her exit.

There was an awkward pause while Jane glared after her mother.

"I think I'll go get ready for bed then. It's hard to believe, but my body still feels tired. My white blood cell count must still be low," Maura broke the silence.

"Sorry about that," Jane apologized. "I don't have to stay if you don't want me to. My mother tends to put her nose in where it doesn't belong. You're looking much better and I know you'd be fine on your own."

Maura felt as though she had a momentary panic attack at Jane's words. Fighting down her rising anxiety, "I want you to stay," she affirmed. "Please."

"Well, alright," the detective was still unsure.

Maura stood quickly, too quickly after having laid in the same position for most of the day, and she stumbled forward as the dizziness caught her. Luckily Jane's reflexes kicked in and she grabbed for the doctor automatically before she could run into the coffee table.

"Maura?" she asked.

Maura couldn't think, couldn't get her lips to move to form the reassurance Jane needed. She could hardly breathe past the darkness in her head.

"Maura?" Jane tried after several moments, trying not to let her nervousness show in her voice. "Should I get Ma? Maur?" She had managed to ease the smaller woman back onto the sofa. Why wasn't Maura answering?

Taking deep breathes, the blackness was fading, light reentering her visual spectrum little by little, the pressure on her chest decreasing. "No," she licked her lips and tried again, "Don't call your mother."

When she was confident that could see and move freely again without setting off a rush of dizziness or causing her head to split, Maura looked at Jane. The detective was staring at her, worry plastered all over her face. In that moment, Maura had no trouble reading the other woman's body language; Jane was petrified.

"Maura," she whispered.

"I'm alright," the doctor attempted to sound reassuring, knowing it was true, but not to what extent. "I'm fine now." Jane was now staring at her arm where Maura's hand was clamped tightly. Maura forced herself to let go, to tell her fingers to relax their grip. "Jane," the shaky strength in her voice forced Jane to meet her gaze. "It was simply a headrush," Maura didn't feel the need to alarm Jane further by describing what, exactly, had just occurred.

"But, but you looked like you were about to faint. Your face went all pale and you didn't answer. I said your name and you didn't answer!" Jane could feel herself acting crazy, almost hysterical, but she couldn't stop, couldn't understand why Maura looked so calm, so at ease. "I should get, Ma!" Jane tried to stand, but Maura latched onto her again. The simple contact helped Jane to calm down, to refocus and get a grip. Maura was here, talking, holding on. Whatever had just happened seemed to have passed. But what the hell had just happened?

"Jane," she was serious. "I stood up too quickly and all of the blood rushed to my head due to the change in position. I am alright now," Maura needed Jane to believe her. "I promise. Alright?" I'm okay now."

Jane relaxed then and pulled the blonde into an unexpected embrace. Maura stiffened and then leaned into the brunette's thin frame. Her heart rate increased, but she automatically felt safer, more in control of herself in Jane's arms. She didn't want the detective to let go, but when Jane seemed certain Maura wasn't about to keel over, she pulled away.

The detective was embarrassed by her rash action. It had felt like the only sane thing to do in that moment, the only way to reassure herself that Maura was fine and still breathing, all in one piece.

Maura touched Jane lightly on the arm to draw her out of her thoughts, "Will you help me upstairs?" she would be fine by herself probably, but it would be easier with Jane to lean on. She also knew the continued contact would help to ease both of their minds, and being useful would make Jane feel more comfortable with the situation.

Maura had been surprised by the intensity of the near-blackout. She'd never had one quite so paralyzing. She could hear Jane when the brunette called her name, but it was as if Maura was underwater and unable to respond. They always increased the intensity of her headache for several hours afterward, but this was still negatively affecting her vision and depth perception. She needed her bed.

Jane hadn't moved, so Maura made as if to stand and the other woman rose fluidly next to her, gripping Maura's hand and elbow, steadying her, holding firm. Maura was undeniably grateful for Jane Rizzoli's ability to quickly wrap her head around any situation and take control, as the taller woman led her slowly out of the living room and upstairs. Jane didn't comment when Maura gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white, or when they paused on the twelfth step so the doctor could catch her breath.

Maura moved to her bed and sat down with a sigh. She looked on with bemusement as Jane disappeared into her closet and didn't reappear for a full three minutes.

When she came out, she looked shell-shocked. "It's like an entire mall in there," she joked, attempting in her way to lighten the mood. When Maura gave a soft laugh in response, some of the excess tension dissipated from the detective's tightly wound frame. Jane turned away as the doctor slipped quickly into pajamas, trying not to picture a half-naked Maura behind her. Trying not to wonder when those images had started making an appearance in her brain. Trying to write it off as her body's coping mechanism. Try to, oh hell, get a grip, Rizzoli, she ordered herself.

Maura managed the short walk to the bathroom and sped through her nightly routine, craving the comforts of her bed and sleep. When she came out, flipping the bedroom light off behind her, Jane was still standing in the same place. Maura crawled into bed and rested her head on the down pillows, relieved to no longer be upright, letting the bed take her weight.

"Well, um, goodnight, then," Jane said awkwardly. She didn't really know what to say. She wanted to ask again and make sure the ME was okay, but she figured Maura would simply brush the question off.

The clock only read 8:30 pm, but Maura knew she would be fast asleep by the time the top of the hour hit. She was also aware that Jane was still worried after the incident downstairs. She didn't want their day, their first day after their reconciliation of sorts, their first day starting over, to end on such a strange note.

So, before the detective could leave, Maura called for her, "Can you come here?" she patted the bed next to her and Jane climbed up hesitantly. It was one thing to share the bed when Maura was fast asleep, another entirely when they were both awake. Maura rested her hand on Jane's, pleased when the detective didn't pull away.

"Will you stay with me again tonight?" she asked softly. "Please. I know it would make me feel better, and then you wouldn't have to worry."

"Maura, you're not, you're not okay," Jane whispered. "What happened downstairs - "

"Was an accident," Maura was quick to cut in. "I told you. And I'm alright now. It was probably a way for my body to communicate to me that I'm not fully well yet." It wasn't a complete lie. "Another night of sleep with help," Maura glanced up Jane from under heavy lids, unsure whether to push or hold off. But she needed the detective. "Will you stay? I'll sleep better, knowing you're here."

The confession seemed to do the trick, because even as Jane opened her mouth to argue, she bit it back, seeing how tired the blonde was and how truthful she was being. Seeing how exhausted the ME looked, still pale and drawn from earlier, she gave in. It's not as though she hadn't been hoping to hear those words leave Maura's lips anyway. She had slept much better in the doctor's bed the night before than she had for the past month. Maura was one of the few people that Jane was willing to give in to, to cave for. And Jane felt as if the two were still in some sort of bubble after their conversation yesterday. A good, apologetic bubble. Once she returned to her own apartment, she was afraid it would turn to all have been a dream. She wanted to stay in the bubble for as long as possible.

"Alright. Let me get the lights downstairs and change."

"And you'll sleep here, not the guest room," Maura clarified.

Jane nodded. "Yes."

The detective turned off all the lights on the first floor and then changed into some of her pajamas in the guest bathroom, slipping into the flannel shorts and Red Sox t-shirt happily, and brushing her teeth with the toothbrush she'd left there so many months ago. It made sense for the two to have clothes and things at the other's place, in case a late night working on a case or simply hanging out trapped them there overnight. Jane was thankful Maura hadn't thrown her stuff away after their fight.

She shut Maura's bedroom door quietly behind her and flicked off the light, tiptoeing over to what had become her side of the bed, unsure if the doctor had already drifted off. She climbed in keeping a solid space of empty mattress between the ME and herself. Maura opened one eye and peeked up at her. "Are you sure you're okay?" Jane whispered.

Maura answered with her eyes closed, "I just need another night's sleep."

Several moments of silence went by until Jane was started out of her state of half-sleep, "Thank you for staying, Jane."

"Sure," Jane rolled on her side to face the other woman. "Anytime."

Maura reached out a hand tentatively and Jane met her in the middle, squeezing to let the blonde know that it was okay.

"I'm so sorry, Jane," she wasn't sure if she was apologizing for almost passing out for the whole entire thing.

"Me, too, Maur. Me, too."

And that was how sleep found the two women: facing one another, hands clasped between the space dividing them, tethering them to one another, to solid ground.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey, y'all, so sorry for the long wait. I was struggling with this chapter, and, although it's not where I want it to be, I thought I'd throw it up here and see what your thoughts were. Now, just a heads up, I'm horrible at the case writing. So I'm mainly going to skim over that, and simply use it as a backdrop. If you were hoping for some really juicy murders and whatnot, this might not be your fic. BUT, on a good note, I'm really excited where we're headed and I've got the next couple of chapters pretty much mapped out. I hope you all are sticking with me. Keep talking to me; I love to know what y'all are thinking!**

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Jane was jolted awake by the ringing of her cellphone. She fumbled for it, confused as to why she wasn't in her own bed, until she managed to hit the bedside lamp on, and flood the room with some low lighting. There it was. Jane snatched it up, "Rizzoli," she growled, rolling onto her back. The sight of Maura, asleep, next to her made her jump. It all came back to her, the day before: Maura, Star Wars, Angela, falling asleep hand in hand with the blonde. Oh. Right.

Frost's voice was speaking on the other end, "Sorry. What?" Jane asked quietly, trying not to disturb her companion.

"I said, we got another body. Looks like the same m.o. We need you to get down here."

"Okay. Text me the address?"

"Yup," Frost sounded as tired as she felt.

"I'm on my way," Jane swung her legs over the edge and eased herself gently off the mattress.

"They're calling Dr. Isles now."

"What?" Jane hissed. "No! Don't. Tell them to call Pike. She's on a sick d-" but the ringing of Maura's phone cut her off. "Shit."

Maura didn't move. "Maur," Jane sighs, covering her mouthpiece with her hand, "Maur - your phone."

"Mmmm." The doctor reaches out blindly, grabbing her phone successfully on the first try and holds it to her ear. "Dr. Isles."

Frost is still on the other end. "Jane?"

"What?"

"Was that Dr. Isles' ring tone?"

"What?" the bemused tone in her partner's voice snapping her back to the cell in her hand.

"Are you at the Doc's house?"

"None of your business," Jane shakes her head furiously at Maura, but the doctor merely raises one eyebrow at her sleepily. "Don't go in," Jane whispers, "You're still sick." Just as Maura confirms that she'll be on scene as soon as possible. Jane growls and then realizes Frost is snorting with barely suppressed laughter.

"Shut up," she tells him. "I'll be there shortly," and she hangs up on him. She wasn't in the mood to deal with Frost this early. She was sure he'd be giving her some type of grief when she got to the crime scene, but she didn't want to hear it. So what if she was still at Maura's. Who gave a rat's ass anyway. It was her life, her friendship. She and the doctor could handle it however the hell they wanted.

Speaking of the blonde, she was already heading for her closet. "What are you doing?" Jane questioned. "You're on a sick day. They should have called Pike."

Maura pokes her head out from the doorway, "Well, technically, it is now the morning and therefore my sick day ended four hours ago."

Jane glances at the clock and waves away the statement.

"And I'm feeling much better," Maura adds.

Jane groans, knowing there's no way she'll get Maura to stay home. The doctor is a big girl; she can take care of herself. The detective can't help feeling a bit annoying, however, "Fine," she pouts as she heads for the guest room and her clothes. She'd prefer the blonde take another day, or two. She may have gotten over her fever, and Jane would let Maura continue to insist that she felt better, the detective was well aware that you don't almost pass out in your living room, struggle going up a single flight of steps, and then just pass it off as nothing. She might have to force the conversation, but Jane was already planning ways to get Maura to spill. To really open up, and let Jane in. She didn't care what it took.

The brunette got ready quickly, throwing on some clothes and brushing her teeth, then making two quick cups of coffee and pouring them into travel mugs just as Maura descended the stairs. "Why do you always look like you're going to a photo shoot?" she can't help herself from asking. Maura looks lovely, as usual. Certainly not as if she spent the past twenty four hours laying around the house with the flu.

But the doctor merely looks down at herself and shrugs self-consciously.

"I made you coffee," Jane indicates, trying to ignore how truly stunning the ME looks. It's four in the morning for God's sakes.

"Thank you," Maura says. "So, I'll meet you there? I take it Detective Frost texted you the address."

But Jane shakes her head, "Oh, no." If she can't keep Maura home, she can at least make sure Maura takes it easy. The image of Maura resting halfway up the stairs the night before seems to be branded in her mind's eye. Jane's protective instincts are in full swing and she doesn't want the doctor out of her sight. Maybe it's crazy and abnormal, but having just gotten her friend back, Jane wasn't ready to be apart from her yet. "We'll take my car."

"But, Jane, that doesn't make any sense."

Jane shrugs and hands the smaller woman her coat, practically pulling Maura out the door.

"I'll have to go back to the lab and you might have to question witnesses at the scene or-o-or something. We should drive separately, Jane. Really."

The detective is actively ignoring the rambling doctor as she unlocks her unmarked and opens the passenger side door. Jane waits patiently as the doctor continues to argue, all while sliding into the seat anyway, slams the door, and walks around the front of the vehicle. Maura can object as much as she wants, and she has a point, but this is what Jane has decided on. Her mind is made up.

"Maura. Stop." The doctor stares at her, mouth open. "Drink your coffee," Jane orders brusquely, pulling out of the ME's long driveway and heading for the address Frost had sent her. It's four am, and they've got a case.

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Maura is right of course. After the scene has been processed, Jane keeping an eye both on the doctor and on the body, Maura is ready to head into the lab and begin the autopsy while Frost and Jane still need to stay a bit longer. Jane has been avoiding the looks Frost is shooting her, knowing he is curious, but also not giving a damn. He had given her, was it a smirk?, when she and the doctor had pulled up together in her car. Frost could go screw himself. God. She was not a morning person.

Jane noticed that although Maura looked happy and excited to get back for the autopsy, as happy as anyone could be around the dead anyway, she also looked slightly pale. No one else would have noticed, but Jane wasn't just anyone and she'd been paying attention for a reason. So, when Frost suggested that Maura take his car and he and Jane would take hers back to the precinct, Jane was quick to cut in.

"I'll drive you, Maur, just give me one more minute."

"Jane," Frost questioned.

"It's fine, Frost. You can handle this, right? And Korsak is still here. I'll just meet you guys back at the station, and we can try to figure out what the hell is going on here." Three rapes and murders in as many days. Jane was furious inside. But she gave Frost a slight smile, asking with her eyes and he nodded.

"Alright. See you back there. Glad you're feeling better, Doc!" he called, as the two headed back towards their car.

Jane couldn't resist resting her hand gently on the ME's elbow. The contact helped her feel slightly less anxious. The detective wasn't really sure what her deal was and why she was feeling so insanely protective of the blonde, but she wasn't going to fight it. Not right now anyway. Maura gave her a small smile and Jane couldn't resist smiling back.

"Hell of a start to the day, huh?"

"Don't swear, Jane."

Jane smirked, holding the door open for the doctor, mimicking her move from earlier. "What are your thoughts, Doc?"

"I don't know of course. We'll have to wait for the autopsy."

"Maura..."

"However," it was Maura's turn to smirk in the detective's direction, "the current evidence does seem to suggest that the victim was raped and then disposed of in a similar manner to the other two victims."

"Think we might get some sort of help off of this one? A piece of evidence that could point us in the right direction? We're pretty stumped so far, Maur," Jane couldn't help asking. She was feeling frustrated that they were having such a hard time with the case and wondered if there was anyway to have prevented the third murder. All of the girls were so young.

Maura, too poised to actually shrugged, merely looked thoughtful. "I hope so."

"Me, too," Jane muttered.

The two women lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive. Jane didn't really know how to bring up the past couple of days. Maura was always better at starting those types of conversations. And now that they were officially back on the clock, Jane didn't know if the doctor would even be receptive to having such a discussion. Her mind was half on the case and half on the doctor, her fingers tapping angrily on the wheel as she drove. Maura seemed to recognize that the detective was uncomfortably because she reached over and touched Jane on the forearm, bringing her out of her musings.

"I'll be alright, Jane. I'll take it easy today. And you can even come down and check on me if you want."

Jane gave the ME a quick glance, trying to read the doctor's face, see if there was anything else. "It's just the case, ya know," she said.

"You can observe the autopsy. That way you'll get any of my results as soon as they come in and hopefully you'll be able to figure it out, Jane."

Jane pulled up in front of the precinct and turned the car off. Mo better not stop by today or she'd be in trouble, but she couldn't bother parking further away. Unsure how to put her feelings into words, the stoic detective turned in her seat and faced the blonde. She reached out hesitantly and ran her hand down Maura's cheek. The doctor closed her eyes at the touch. Jane's heartbeat increased.

What the hell was she doing? She pulled away, startlingly the other woman. "Just, don't try and do too much today, alright? You were pretty sick yesterday."

Maura nodded, but Jane thought she could see disappoint in the doctor's hazel eyes. "Of course, Jane. I'll be sure to stay plenty hydrated."

Jane laughed. "Good."

"Thank you," Maura's voice was heartfelt. "For taking such good care of me."

Jane grinned at her. "Anytime," she squeezed the doctor's hand and let go, opening her door and stepping out. "Anytime, Maur."

The two women headed into the precinct, both wondering what exactly was going on with their friendship, both curious as to why the detective, normally so standoffish, had been the one to initiate contact, not once, but twice in the car. Both wondering why it felt so hard to leave the other in the elevator, when they'd just spent the past 3 months ignoring one another completely. Both getting into the mindset of their professional lives resolutely as they turned towards their prospective desks and got down to work. There were murders to be solved. They could have their necessary conversations later.

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**AN2 - So, thoughts? **


	17. Chapter 17

Dealing with some writer's block. Not to mention college life keeps getting in the way. Let me know what y'all think. You guys are the best!

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Maura spent the morning bent over the body of their third victim. The girl was young and pretty and blonde, just like the first two had been. Maura was well aware what three victims meant; there was a serial killer out there. She was determined to find something, anything, a small shred of evidence that would help Jane and Detectives Frost and Korsak catch a lead. The doctor knew what this type of case did to the detectives, Jane especially. How they would push and push and push until they found a lead and cracked the case. They were the best in Boston PD for a reason. And Maura was determined to keep up with them and to help them as much as she was able.

She was so ensconced in her work, that she didn't even hear the ding which signaled the elevator doors or the tell-tale click-clacking of Jane's boots coming towards her. It wasn't until the brunette cleared her throat that Maura jumped and glanced away from the autopsy in front of her.

"Jane!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright."

"What have you got? Anything?" Jane looked worn out, and it was only one in the afternoon.

"Not yet," Maura said sadly. Jane sighed and ran a tired hand through her curly hair. "I'll let you know as soon as I start getting results back."

Maura couldn't help her eyes from flicking up and down the detective's thin frame, taking stock of her physical appearance and how that would relate to her emotional mentality. "Did Detective Frost have any luck at the scene?"

"No, at this point, we're pretty much stalled. So, if there's anything new, anything at all with this one, we need to find it."

Maura nodded in agreement. "Well, I'm not finished yet."

"Thanks, Maur."

There was an awkward pause where neither woman really knew what to say. Maura didn't know if it would be appropriate to invite Jane to stay and observe. She wasn't sure what the proper protocol would be in a situation where two friends had only just begun to resolve their differences. Maura was less adept at such social situations, and so she decided to simply go back to work and let Jane take the lead. The silence stretched out as the doctor continued. She could feel Jane's eyes on her, but she forced herself not to look up.

Suddenly, Jane was there, by her side, and Maura could feel the warmth radiating from the other woman's body, and she could smell Jane's scent. Maura closed her eyes quickly and took a deep breathe, lavender and that natural hint of ... something. The doctor could never tell exactly what it was. Her olfactory sensors didn't have anything to compare it to. It was pure Jane. At first, the doctor had to force herself to relax at the detective's quick approach, but soon enough, she could feel her muscles let go, and she felt calmer. The brunette had that affect on the doctor, she made her feel more at ease simply by being in closer proximity.

"Maur," Jane all but whispered.

The blonde straightened and turned slightly towards the detective. Jane's brown eyes look worried, pensive.

"How are you feeling?" She put the back of her hand against Maura's cheek lightly. There was a beat, then two, and then she removed it.

Maura felt the absence immediately. Her body reacted by moving infinitesimally closer to the detective's warm figure. Jane looked embarrassed, she had a tinge of blush in her cheeks. Wanting to put the detective more at ease, Maura smiled at her. "I'm alright, Jane," and it was true. Getting lost in her work had allowed the blonde to forget the residual weakness in her body and the headache in her temples. And now that Jane was there, so close Maura could have reached out and touched her, a closeness neither had experienced much in the past three months, even her headache was forgotten.

"Good," Jane let out. "But you're taking it easy?"

Maura nodded.

"Did you eat?"

"Not yet, but Angela called down several minutes ago and is making something up for me."

Jane's gaze was searching and Maura met it with all the reassurance she could muster. There was something new in the brunette's brown eyes, something Maura had never seen before. Perhaps she just hadn't noticed it, but the doctor was quite observant and she would have seen that, what was it, expression before had it been present. Jane looked as if she were watching Maura almost ... lovingly. Was that how best friends looked at one another? Maura didn't know. She did know that it made her heart beat increase and her knees to suddenly feel as though they may no longer support her weight. She did know that she would not be opposed if Jane continued to look at her in such a manner for an extended period of time. The word forever slid into her brain, but Maura forced it out. She couldn't even be sure what that expression of concern radiating from the taller woman really meant. She couldn't be certain, and therefore, for now, she would have to content herself with trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.

"How about I run up to the café and grab some lunch for both of us? Frost and Korsak don't really need me right now. You can take a break, get off of your feet," Jane glanced down pointedly at the heels Maura had on.

"These are actually quite comfortable, Jane. They have wonderful arch support for such elevated height."

Jane snorted and rolled her eyes, and Maura couldn't help but grin at the familiar expression.

"Whatever you say. I'll be back in few."

The doctor felt a sudden twinge when Jane disappeared around from view. But she stifled the emotion and instead went about closing up the autopsy for her lunch break. Her lunch break with Jane. Maura was practically ecstatic.

Several hours later, Maura was filling out paperwork in her office, having completed the autopsy and entered the waiting period for labs to be returned, when a knock on her door caused her to look up. Jane was there, looking a bit more wrinkled and even more tired than she had at their lunch break. It had been nice to enjoy a simply moment together, sharing a meal. Maura had reveled in the attention, not having fully comprehended her loneliness during the time when she and Jane weren't speaking. Maura had managed to make the detective laugh twice, once with a story about Bass, and another with the agricultural history of avocados. She had felt a bit of silly pride in being able to take Jane's mind off of the case. But then, the meal had ended and they had both gone back to their respective work places.

"Thought I'd drive you home," Jane said by way of introduction.

"Oh, yes. I'm just about finished here."

"No rush," Jane shambled over to the couch and sat down, moving around as she attempted to find a more comfortable spot. The detective knew Jane did not approve of her office furniture, but she was more concerned with visual appeal than actual comfort. Jane was the only one who really made use of the couch anyway.

"Don't you have to stay?" Maura questioned.

Jane shook her head, curls bouncing in place. "Not tonight. We can't do anything more without your results."

"Labs should start coming in tomorrow morning."

"Good. Maybe we'll finally find something to help us catch this rat bastard."

"Language," Maura reprimanded half-heartedly. She wanted to catch the man who'd done this just as badly as Jane did. Maura stood, supporting herself on the desk, and was pleasantly surprised when the only side-effects to her change in position was a slight blurring at the edge of her vision.

"Ready?" Jane asked.

"Yes. But you don't have to drive me home, Jane. I can always take a cab."

Jane scoffed. "That's a joke right?"

Maura simply smiled in response as Jane handed her her purse and jacket.

"Let's go, doc. I hear a beer and your couch calling my name."

"Are you staying for dinner?" Maura asked, excited at the prospect of retaining Jane's company for a bit longer.

Jane paused, "If you don't mind."

"Not at all. We may have to stop at the market to pick up a few things. I'm not sure what I have in my refrigerator," Maura didn't want Jane to know how difficult she'd found it to do small things like go to the store lately.

"Mmm. I noticed," Jane said. "But, Ma said she stopped by this morning and stocked up your pantry. So we should be good to go."

"Oh, Jane. Your mother didn't have to do that!"

"Don't worry, Maur. I gave her a list of all that organic crap you usually get."

"No, Jane, it isn't that," Maura reached out and put her hand on Jane's arm as the stood in the elevator. "Your mother doesn't have to shop for me. I don' t want to be an inconvenience."

"Trust me," Jane said, as the doors dinged open and the two woman stepped out together, "My mother probably had the time of her life filling up your fridge. I wouldn't be surprised if she made dinner for tonight already."

Maura wanted to protest, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. The Rizzoli women were headstrong to a fault. She made a mental note to buy Angela some flowers as a thank you the next chance she got.

And, true to form, when Maura led the way into her house twenty minutes later, she found a note from the matriarch on the kitchen counter, detailing the reheating directions for her lasagna. The doctor grinned as she read and then pulled out a beer for Jane and slid the lasagna into the oven. She hesitated before pulling herself a glass of water. She didn't really know how alcohol would take to her system. She was still recuperating after all. Setting the timer, she laid out some lettuce and several British strawberries for Bass and then wandered into the living room where Jane was propped up on the couch, basketball on the television. Jane smiled her thanks when Maura passed over the beer and then scooted over so Maura, too, could sink down into the cushions.

The blonde didn't attempt to make small talk, content simply to watch Jane watching the television. Jane would glance her way now and again and they would share a quick smile. This time of relaxation was important for both of the women after such a tense day and stressful case. Maura could practically see the tension falling away from the detective's body as her posture sank lower and lower into the couch. Just as Jane took the last swig of her beer, the timer went off. Maura stood, but Jane rose at the same time.

"Let me," she said. And Maura was only too happy to let the brunette handle the final food prep. Jane knew her way around Maura's kitchen as well as she did her own. And she reappeared several moments later, a fresh beer in hand and two plates of lasagna balanced on her other arm. "For you," she said with a flourish and Maura couldn't stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Delicious," Maura moaned.

"That's my mother, for you. Never underestimate the power of Angela Rizzoli in the kitchen."

The two women didn't speak again until both plates were empty and they were settled contentedly with full stomachs. Maura wasn't sure what to do now. Should she bring up the fight? They still had to talk about it. To work out what had happened and how to keep such a thing from happening again. But the pull of relaxation was taking over and she couldn't be bothered to bring up such a heavy topic when the air in the room was so deliciously light as it was. Just as Maura could feel herself falling asleep under the influence of the food, Jane stretched next to her and stood, turning off the tv. "Well, I should get going. I haven't been home to Jo in a couple of days. Gotta make sure she hasn't destroyed anything yet."

Maura looked up Jane, a bit sad that their time together was coming to an end. She understood, however, and didn't want to seem too pathetic. Jane took the plates back into the kitchen and Maura followed her.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Maura questioned, hesitation evident in her voice.

"Of course," Jane said. "We'll want those labs as soon as possible."

"I'll have them on your desk first thing," Maura affirmed.

"Thanks, Maur. And thanks for dinner and the beer."

"Anytime, Jane."

Both women stood staring at one another. "I'm glad you're alright," Jane said.

"I'm glad _we're _alright," Maura emphasized.

"If you need anything, just call, okay."

Jane led the way to the front door where she slipped on her boots and pulled her badge and gun out of the drawer of the table Maura had placed there precisely for that purpose. It was strange, the things Maura had done around her house for Jane's convenience. The gun drawer, Jane's beer in her fridge, the sports package Maura had purchased for her cable. Those things were all Jane's.

Maura was pulled out of her revery when she felt Jane's lips on her cheek. It was a quick kiss, soft, and hesitant. And Jane kept her head down when she pulled away, allowing her long hair to cover her embarrassment at the strange show of affection. "See you tomorrow." She was gone before Maura could react. The doctor traced the place where Jane's lips had been and then stumbled towards her bedroom in a daze.

She didn't even remember going through her nightly routine or turning the lights off. It wasn't until she was curled up in bed that she realized she was laying on the side Jane had slept in the past two nights. The pillow still smelled of the brunette's shampoo and Maura buried her head into it, trying to soak up as much of the detective as she could. It wasn't normal, the feelings Maura was harboring for Jane. But they had come up so suddenly, so soon on the heels of their fight that Maura didn't want to recognize them. Voicing them to herself would make them real. The doctor wasn't shy about voicing her emotions or opinions, or attractions for that matter, but Jane was...well Jane, and Maura didn't know how the detective would react. She wasn't even sure yet what it all meant, and she knew better than to approach the detective when her feelings were still in fledgling stage. Perhaps they would stay that way. It would make Maura's life that much easier.

But still. She couldn't help cupping the cheek where Jane's lips had been. Falling asleep with Jane all around her. In her.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: I know I've been a bit MIA lately, so I decided, what the hell, two updates in one day. Couldn't hurt, right? Also, y'alls' reviews are making my heart absolutely flutter with joy. Keep doing what you do. Much love.

* * *

Detective Jane Rizzoli was a badass. She really was. But she was also exhausted. Spending the past three months stressing out over a fight with her best friend, the past three days caring for said best friend, and the past day sitting at her desk feeling absolutely useless would do that to a person. It was all Jane could do to take Jo Friday outside for a short walk, before she collapsed on her couch in a stupor. Her last thought before she crashed was that she much preferred Maura's couch to her own.

It was the banging that woke her. At first, she couldn't remember where she was. Wasn't she supposed to be at Maura's? No, that was last night. Maura didn't need Jane to sleep in her bed every night; it wasn't like she needed Jane's presence. Jane couldn't help herself from wishing that Maura had asked her to stay another night. The incessant knocking pulled her fully awake and she managed to haul herself off the couch. She pushed Jo Friday away from the door gently with her foot and unlocked it, throwing the door open.

"It's three in the morn-" was all she got out before she took in the sight before her.

Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, top of the social order, most fashionable and put together woman that Jane had ever met was standing in the hallway in front of Jane's door, dressed in an overlarge sweater and yoga pants (which hugged her curves in all the right places. Jane, the detective growled to herself, Stop.) and flats. And she was crying. Silent tears were flowing, unchecked down the blonde's face, and, based on her messy appearance and red eyes, it looked as though she'd been crying for awhile.

"Maur?"

Maura wasn't meeting Jane's gaze. She was staring at the floor, her shoulders were shaking, but she had yet to make a sound. Jane didn't know what to do.

"Maura?"

Still no response. Jane decided to bite the bullet, so she stepped out, into the hall. Maura took a step back and Jane froze. The doctor was acting like a skittish puppy and Jane didn't want to scare her. She needed to see Maura's face, to look into Maura's hazel eyes. Jane could usually get a better read on the situation when she could make eye contact, but the doctor was making that extremely difficult.

"Maura, come inside. C'mon," Jane managed to coax the other woman into the apartment by stepping back, and urging her in gently. She closed the door behind them and watched as Maura remained still, standing in the entryway. Once the door was closed, Maura let an audibly sob escape her lips and then she was crying and shaking and Jane was afraid she was going to pass out from oxygen deprivation or work herself into a full on panic attack. So she did the only thing she could think to do; she pulled Maura into a hug, squeezing tighter when the doctor attempted to squirm away.

"Shhh," Jane soothed, pulling Maura as close as she could. "It's alright. You're okay. See, I'm right here. C'mon," she led the doctor over to the couch and sank down onto the cushions, keeping Maura pulled tight to her. Keeping up the calming litany, she rubbed the smaller woman's back soothingly, playing with Maura's honey blonde hair now and then in an attempt to calm her. Jane didn't have a lot of experience with hysterical outbursts, that was more her mother's realm, but she could feel the physical contact working its magic. Maura's heartbeat was rapid, and her breathing was rapid. Jane could feel the warm breathes on her neck where Maura had buried her head. Every now and then there was a hiccup or a catch in Maura's sob and Jane would pull her closer, trying to eliminate any space between the two, trying to reassure the doctor through her mere presence that Maura was safe, that she was alright.

"It's okay, Maur. It's alright."

The shaking was beginning to subside, Maura's breathing was evening out, but Jane knew better than to pull away until the other woman was ready. Her own heartbeat was coming back down as she felt Maura relax into the embrace. The sight of Maura so worked up had caused Jane's own body to tense up in respond, her panic button set on high alert.

When she felt Maura shift against her, Jane made as if to move away but Maura's raspy voice stopped her, "Don't. Please."

Jane stopped moving and instead shifted so that the blonde was basically situated in her lap. This was more physical contact than the two had ever shared and in the back of Jane's brain, she could hear herself cheering or something, but she ignored it, stifling the urge to bury her own face in the blonde curls. She settled for placing a quick kiss there instead.

"I'm sorry," Maura murmured, a fresh round of sobs rising in her chest, but Jane cut her off before she could get going.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. That's what I'm here for right."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Maura really did start sobbing again. "You're here," it was half a question.

"Of course I'm here, Maur. Right here, with you."

Maura's tearstained face finally looked up. Her puffy hazel eyes met Jane's own brown ones, and in that moment, if someone had asked Jane if she'd ever seen anything more beautiful, she would have been unable to respond. The pain reflected in the smaller woman's face nearly broke Jane's heart. She didn't want Maura to look like that. Ever. Maura's hand seemed to come up of it's own accord and she ran a finger down Jane's cheek. The brunette suppressed the shudder which made its way down her spine.

"See. I'm here."

"Oh, Jane," Maura's voice broke on the syllable and Jane grabbed the other woman's hand in her own, squeezing tightly as if to express her physical nearness. The tears were glistening in Maura's eyes, but she took a deep breathe and managed to hold them at bay.

"I'm sorry to-to come over so late. I didn't mean, didn't want to wake you."

"It's okay."

Maura shook her head. "It isn't. I overreacted. It was a completely foolish response, one which I should never have logically engaged in."

"Maur," Jane stopped the other woman before she could hide herself in logic. "Just tell me what happened."

"You weren't there," Maura whispered in response, looking away again. "I-I dreamed about you. I can't remember. It was just, I was alone. And you were leaving and I couldn't make you stay, Jane. I couldn't make you stay!"

Jane placed her hand underneath the skittish woman's chin and turned her so they were once again facing one another. Maura, normally so composed, so strong, appeared, in that moment more terrified than Jane had ever seen her. She looked at Jane as if the detective were a ghost, about to flit away at any moment.

"Well look. Here we are, together."

Maura shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't make you stay. And when I woke up, you weren't there, and I couldn't, I had to, to know, to see you. To make sure you were still here, still real."

Jane couldn't help her own tears from forming at Maura's words, but she pushed them away, she pushed away the lump that was forming in her throat, the ache in her chest. She had done this. She had caused Maura to fall apart in this way, to dream such horrible things. Jane had never wanted to help someone so badly, to ease someone's pain so strongly that she would be willing to do anything, absolutely anything.

"I'm here. You're okay. I'm sorry, Maur. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. Please, don't leave me Jane. I couldn't, wouldn't be able t- Please."

"We're okay. I'm not going anywhere. We'll work it out. I promise," Jane stared into Maura's eyes, one arm still wrapped tightly around the blonde's shoulders, the one clasped tightly with the doctor's. "I promise."

"I'm sorry."

Jane didn't respond. Instead, she stood up swiftly, clutching Maura to her like she would a baby. It wasn't effortless, but it was right, and so Jane didn't put the doctor down as she made her way towards the bedroom.

"Jane!"

"Hush," Jane reprimanded.

She hugged Maura to her once more, taking in the doctor's warmth, her softness, her perfectness, before setting her gently down on the bed. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth quickly and then reentered the room where Maura was now sitting. Flicking off the light, she crawled under the covers.

"C'mere," she ordered, grabbing the ME's hand and pulling her down next to her.

"Jane," Maura was unsure.

"Shh. I don't want you to have those dreams anymore. I don't want you to have to feel that way. I'm not going anywhere, Maur. And I'm sorry for these past three months, and I know we have to talk about it. But right now, I'm tired and you're exhausted, and we both need sleep. So c'mon."

Maura settled herself next to the detective. Her hand resting lightly on Jane's wrist. Jane considered the next move for all of a second, before she pulled Maura closer to her, resting the blonde's head on her chest, wrapping Maura's arm around her waist. The doctor took a moment and then she relaxed, letting Jane take her full weight, and Jane relaxed as well, trying to take deep breathes to control the sudden rapidity of her heartbeat. She was certain Maura could hear the increased pace, her ear was resting just below Jane's collar bone.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

"Stop apologizing," Jane said softly, her voice dipping into a lower register with exhaustion. "I'm here. Sleep, Maur."

And the smaller woman did, slipping into unconsciousness almost immediately, safe, curled into Jane's side. But, the detective was awake long after Maura's tight hold released her t-shirt and the doctor's breathing adopted a steady rhythm.

What in the hell was she doing. She and Maura had slept together before, but never like this, never _together _together, pressed so tightly there was no space between them. Jane found herself breathing in sync with the other woman, her chest rising and falling to match the delicate fluttering she felt on top of her. This wasn't right. This wasn't how friendship was supposed to look. Detective Rizzoli was sure of that. But this was the most comfortable Jane had ever been whilst sharing her bed. The brunette had never been much of a cuddler, preferring to disentangle herself from her bed partner as sleep arrived. But with Maura's light weight on top of her, her hand resting against Jane's hip, any thought of pulling away left her head like a bird taking flight.

They fit together so perfectly it would be a crime to move away, to rob Maura of the comfort she seemed to find in the taller woman's arms. Hell, Jane was unwilling to rob herself of the position she was in. She felt more at ease now than she had...ever. Better than she ever had with Dean or Casey or-o-or anyone. Jane Rizzoli avoided feelings like the plague, but there, in the dark of her bedroom, Maura Isles held closely to her heart, Jane let down her walls, she let the feelings rush over her, consume her.

All the pain and rejection she'd been feeling came in immediately, but followed closely on their coattails was something more, something wonderful. Happiness, joy, a light airy feeling Jane could honestly say she'd never experienced before. And there it was, attraction, almost...lo- no. It couldn't be. Not yet. It wasn't lust; it went deeper than that. From the tips of her toes to fingers to her head and her heart. It was like a glow, Jane scoffed at her own romantic images, but it seriously was like a pit of warmth and contentment had settled in her stomach and spread deep into her bones.

She felt...something for this woman on top of her. Something ancient and primal and protective and wonderful. She didn't want to call it the "L" word. Not yet. She didn't want to set herself up for the hurt that could result if Maura didn't feel the same way. And Jane was certain the doctor _didn't _feel the same way, how could she? Maura was perfect and beautiful and smart, and Jane was, well, a homicide detective who could take down any perp and go to it with any of the guys. Yes, Jane was sure Maura didn't feel for Jane what Jane felt for her, but at this point, it was alright. Jane would take what she could get. And having the sleeping doctor cuddled up to her, so close they were basically a single person, was plenty. It was enough. For now.


	19. Chapter 19

So, I'm just gonna go ahead and let y'all know that this chapter is...strange. To me anyway. But, things are about to get shaken up in the next chapter. I'm excited. Are you excited? I hope so. Let me know what ya think. Thanks for sticking around.

* * *

Maura had awoken to find herself alone and disoriented in Jane's bed. She let the memories of last night wash over her slowly. The horrible dream which had felt so real, waking up terrified that Jane was gone, her mad flight to Jane's apartment, followed by an awful display of emotion. The medical examiner couldn't believe she'd allowed her feelings to overwhelm her normally logical brain in such a fashion. She remembered being carried to Jane's bed, trying to protest, but not really caring that the detective was holding her so close. She remembered falling asleep held safely in the brunette's arms. But, where was the detective now? Her side of the bed was cool, no body had lain there for at least an hour.

The doctor rolled over onto her side, taking stock of her own physical response. The emotional drain and tension from the night before had caused her muscles to tighten in response, and now the doctor felt stiff and sore. Her head was pounding. Maura needed some water. She needed to see Jane. And, suddenly, that was all she could think of, that she needed to see Jane, needed to touch her again, to feel, once more, that Jane was there.

Maura threw back the covers, steadying herself against the headrush, and then padded down the hall. The jingling of the collar alerted her to Jo Friday's mad dash in her direction and she spared a second to give the little dog a quick pat. "Where's, Jane?" she asked the little dog. Jo turned and led the way towards the kitchen.

And there she was. Maura let out a breath. Jane was sitting at the kitchen counter, her legs folded up against her chest and the newspaper spread open before her. Her brain hair was tangled and puffed ridiculously out around her face, her shoulders were slumped, and there was a trace of periorbital hyperpigmentation, but Maura couldn't have been happier to see anyone. Jane was beautiful. Maura had told Jane before, had dropped it lightly in conversation, a compliment from friend to friend. But, in that moment, Maura realized just how stunning the detective was, even exhausted and stressed out. And, that more than anything, the fact that Maura felt a pull towards the detective, as if Jane were a magnet, in the morning after a rough night when both women were looking decidedly less than their best, clued Maura in to her growing attraction.

Maura stifled her desire, and walked hesitantly into the room, trying not to startle the other woman.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Jane said, setting the paper aside and glancing up at Maura. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not. You crashed pretty hard last night."

The similarity of this exchange to the one the two had shared not two mornings ago wasn't lost on the doctor. It was becoming a habit, waking up and finding Jane in the kitchen, coffee in hand. Maura didn't necessarily mind such a habit.

"I'm sorry," she responded.

Jane shrugged. "I get it. You're not the only one who dreams, ya know."

Maura cast a piercing glance at Jane's thin frame, trying to determine if Jane was referencing Hoyt or more recent events. She knew the detective struggled with nightmares, but it wasn't something the two of them ever discussed. Sometimes, Jane would hint at something or drop a specific point in conversation, but they never talked about the dreams outright. So, Maura merely nodded and looked away.

"Do you want to go in to work today?"

"Of course. I'm perfectly fine, Jane."

It was Jane's turn to nod. "Coffee's there," she pointed. "I'm gonna go get ready." Maura was thankful the detective wasn't going to push the topic.

"I should get going. I have to go home and change."

"Just get ready here," Jane suggested. "You've still got a couple of clean outfits around here someplace."

"Well, I-"

"Maur."

And there it was. The doctor didn't know how she did it, but Jane had the ability to convince her with a single word. It wasn't that Jane forced her to do anything or ordered her to do anything. It was simply that the ME absolutely couldn't refuse when Jane said her name in that raspy voice, sounding partly exasperated and also completely in charge.

"Alright."

Jane smiled at her as she headed for the bathroom and Maura smiled back.

An hour later, both women were finally ready for work. Jo had been taken out, a second pot of coffee had been brewed, and Maura had managed to find a dress that with only several minuscule wrinkles. Maura had her hand on the door knob, keys in hand, watching with a bemused expression as Jane ran frantically around the living room looking for her other boot.

"Where is it. I know it's here," the other woman grumbled under her breath. "Aha!" she hoisted the offending shoe in the air in triumph before slipping it on and hopping over to Maura. "Ready to go, doc?"

"Yes, Jane," Maura started to open the door, but Jane pushed it closed again. Maura stared at her in surprise.

"Are you okay? Going to work today will be alright?"

"Of course, Jane. I understand if my irrational behavior was upsetting last night, but I am perfectly fine now."

"I'm trusting you on this one, Maur. You have to tell me if something is wrong, ok?"

Her tear ducts seem to take on lives of their own at the unnaturally soft words, but Maura took several deep breaths to calm herself before answering. "I will. I'll tell you."

Jane runs a finger down the doctor's cheek and breaks into a big grin. "Good." Suddenly, she's grabbed the keys from Maura's hand and is racing out the door and down the stairs. "Race ya!" She calls over her shoulder.

Maura chuckles and follows after her, knowing that Jane will insist on driving in together, even though it makes more sense for them each to have their own vehicle. It's this side of Jane, the silly side, the one who races down the stairs, boots clunking along, a smile on her face, this is Maura's favorite side of the detective. Jane doesn't let her guard down with anyone, but when she acts this way, playful and almost carefree, Maura can't help but go along.

* * *

Ten in the morning finds the doctor stuck behind her desk, pouring over old paperwork left from when she was on vacation and Dr. Pike was in charge. Maura is feeling exhausted and her head hurts terribly. She wants to go up to the homicide floor to see Jane, but she doesn't have a reason: the labs aren't in yet. And she can't simply go upstairs to talk to Jane. It would make her feel better, but it would also be suspicious and awkward. Maura needs to a find a reason.

Thankfully, the labs come in not an hour later and Maura flips through them on her way towards the elevator. When she spots the anomaly, the marker, she pauses for a fraction of a second, and then quickens her step. This could be it, this could be the clue Jane and Frost and Korsak need. This piece of information could give them a lead.

Maura bursts out of the elevator and heads directly for Jane's desk. The detective is leaning back in her chair, tossing crumpled up pieces of paper towards the trash can on the floor, and she nearly falls over when Maura comes rushing in. The doctor has a strange sense of delight that she's managed to surprise Jane in such a fashion.

"The labs," Maura says by way of introduction.

Jane raises an eyebrow.

"See. Here," Maura shoves the file under Jane's nose.

"Maur. I'm not fluent in science speak, or lab results. I'm gonna need some interpretation here."

"Oh, right," the blonde feels herself growing flustered, but it's just right there! The clue! And Jane is standing so close, peering over Maura's shoulder now and she can practically feel the outline of the brunette's form brushed against her own and it's driving her crazy and her brain seems to have stopped functioning, and her breathing is growing rapid, and Maura could swear she's about to start hyperventilating because Jane is so close to her and Maura doesn't appear to have any control over her own physiological reactions and -

"Maura. Tell me what the labs say," Jane's voice is calm. Deliberate. Maura sees her exchange a questioning look with Korsak who shrugs in response, and she knows it is because she is acting completely out of character.

"Right," Maura takes in a deep lungful of air, as well as a step away from the detective. She needs to be able to think clearly, and if her body's response to Jane's close proximity is to go into survival mode, she needs her space.

Maura describes the anomaly the labs picked up. How it could lead them to their suspect. And then Detective Frost, whom Maura hadn't noticed until just that moment, jumped in with an added detail, and then Jane is jumping around and making a phone call, and grabbing her jacket, and, "I'll go with Frost. Your keys are on my desk, Maur!" as she and the other two detectives run out the door, suspect in mind.

Maura is left a bit baffled by the suddenness of it all, but she picks up her keys and heads back down to the morgue. There is really nothing left for her to do. A body was delivered by Mass General Hospital earlier in the day for a routine autopsy, but Maura is not the only forensic pathologist working for the Boston PD, and so someone else is handling it. When she'd thought about seeing Jane earlier, she had pictured the two of them getting a cup of coffee from the café, perhaps having lunch together. But now, Jane is out, tracking down a killer, doing what she was born to do, and Maura is once again alone. Alone with her thoughts.

The silence in her office is thick and deafening, and Maura ends up transcribing her own voice recorded notes simply to add some sound to the room. She doesn't want to think about the dream or the fact that she woke up in Jane Rizzoli's bed that morning or the fact that she can't seem to keep her thoughts off of the tall brunette for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. Normally so adept at losing herself in her work, Maura is failing miserably today, and it's draining on her, constantly trying to control her own thoughts. It's causing her head to pound. Maybe she should tell Jane about the headaches, and the dizziness, but as soon as she thinks it, Maura reprimands herself for even considering such an act. The doctor is independent to a fault, and she doesn't want Jane to think of her as weak or incapable. She doesn't want Jane to know that getting over the flu seemed to be the least of her problems.

Maura's thoughts stay on Jane all afternoon, until she decides to head home for the evening. It's been another long day of paperwork and her head is spinning. When she closes up her office and attempts to lock the door behind her, she notices that her hands are shaking, and she seems to have settled into a stupor. Her normal brain function having dropped to a low murmur with the onslaught of another ferocious headache at the base of her skull.

Maura decided to stop by the café on her way out of the precinct. She wanted another cup of coffee for the ride home, even if the caffeine would simply be harmful to her headache. But, when she walks through the glass doors, her eyes immediately land on Jane who is lounging against the counter, rolling her eyes at something Angela Rizzoli had just said. And when Angela sees Maura, she waves and Jane turns. Maura doesn't notice the way Jane's eyes light up as she catches a glimpse of the Medical Examiner, but she does notice her own automatic reaction at the detective's gaze.

Jane saunters over. "We got him, Maur! He's upstairs with Frost and Korsak. You were right!"

"I'm glad, Jane," Maura says demurely looking down at her hands which are clasped tightly together in an attempt to hide their shakiness.

"Hey, you alright?" Jane asks, immediately picking up on the doctor's tense posture.

"It's been a long day. I was just heading home."

"Well, let me drive you."

"No!" Maura feels bad when Jane looks a little taken aback by her harsh tone. "I don't need you to keep taking care of me, Jane. I can drive myself home." Maura doesn't want the detective to take her home even though all she's been craving all day is the taller woman's presence. Her thoughts from earlier are running through her head though. Her fears that Jane will interpret her illness as weakness and will see the medical examiner as pathetic. She doesn't want Jane to see her that way.

But Jane doesn't appear convinced, and suddenly Maura is afraid that by pushing her away, she has upset the detective. That perhaps Jane will rescind their truce and go back to hating her. Maura doesn't know what to do. She is at a loss as to how to explain what it is exactly that she meant by, 'no.' She can feel her legs shaking beneath her and is suddenly afraid that she is going to fall over, fall apart under the watchful gaze of her best friend. The nightmare and all of the heartache and tension and influenza and now the fear that anything she does or says could be enough to send Jane away again land on Maura's shoulders all at once. She wants Jane to take her home more than anything, to stay the night even, and keep the terrors away. She wants Jane so badly that it hurts her. And the realization is crushing and terrifying and while all of these horrible thoughts are running through her mind, Maura is aware that life in the café is going on as usual and Stanley is yelling at Mrs. Rizzoli and Jane is still staring at her with a hurt expression on her face.

"Jane, I-I I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that I don't appreciate what you've done. _Everything _you've done for me. That wasn't my intention. I just, I assumed you would like to go home to your own apartment this evening, that you wouldn't like to be my chauffeur any longer. The nightmare last night was simply a reaction to all of the stress. You understand? And I'm perfectly fine," Maura can hear herself rambling, can practically hear the words breaking as they fall from her lips, but she can't stop, because she needs Jane to understand that she wasn't rejecting her, isn't rejecting her.

But suddenly, Jane's arms are around her and the doctor immediately feels calmer and able to control her breathing again. They stay that way for ten seconds, twenty seconds, until Maura reminds herself that they are still in the Boston Police Department and that Detective Jane Rizzoli of Homicide is actually hugging her in front of absolutely everyone. Jane Rizzoli who hates physical contact of any kind. So she pulls away.

"Drive me home?"

"Of course."

Maura forces herself to eat some of the thai food Jane picked up on their way home. She asks Jane about the suspect. About how they caught him. She is content to let Jane talk, spilling random facts about the day and then about how the Red Sox are doing this season. She attempts to stay involved in the conversation, responding when appropriate and injecting her own exclamations of interest whenever there appears to be a pause in Jane's flow. But her near melt down from earlier is still looping through her mind and her head is pounding so horribly that she can hardly hear Jane's words.

Finally, the detective seems to have had enough, because Maura can feel Jane's hand on her shoulder as she says, "C'mon, Maur. Bedtime. I'm pretty sure you didn't hear anything of what I just said because there were, like, thirty grammar mistakes in there that you didn't even try to correct."

Maura forces a grin. "I correct you in my head, Jane."

"Of course you do," Jane says softly, fondly. "But it's bedtime."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"I realize this might be asking quite a lot, but I was wondering if you might consider staying here again tonight?" She asks so quietly she isn't sure if the brunette heard her, but the thoughtful look on Jane's expressive face indicates that she has.

"Sure, Maur." She says finally. "Let me just call Frankie and ask him to let Jo out."

"Thank you," Maura says with a sigh of relief and the detective gives her shoulder a quick squeeze.

"I'll be up in a minute."

Maura makes her way slowly upstairs and brushes her teeth, slipping into her pajamas and hanging her dress in her closet. She is aware that her strange behavior is, as Jane would say, freaking the other woman out. And she should care, but all she can think about is the splitting in her skull, and how safe she felt wrapped in Jane's arms the night before. Maura will talk to Jane to next day, she decides, after they've both had a night to sleep on it. Jane is still high on her arrest, and Maura doesn't want to ruin it for the detective more than she already has.

So, when Jane walks softly into the darkened bedroom, and slips into her side of the bed, Maura doesn't say a word, but merely rolls over, so she is facing the brunette's lanky form. Jane doesn't talk either, and for once, Maura is grateful for Jane's stubbornness, for her desire to avoid confrontation of all conversations that will end up being awkward and uncomfortable. Because, it means that when Jane sighs and reaches out an arm, Maura is free to roll closer, without breaking the silence. That when Jane cuddles into Maura, the doctor doesn't feel the need to explain exactly why the human body feels more relaxed in the arms of another. That when Jane presses a kiss to the top of Maura's head just as the other woman is falling asleep, Maura doesn't feel the need to respond, but simply lets unconsciousness claim her, knowing Jane is there.


	20. Chapter 20

Happy Thanksgiving y'all. I hope you all have something to be grateful for today and everyday. I'm definitely grateful for all the love this story has received so far. Keep it coming. Love.

* * *

The days had blurred together for the Chief Medical Examiner. One turning into the next, turning into a week, into a month. It'd been a month since she and Jane had reconstituted their friendship, and Maura was happy, blissfully happy. It was almost like they had never fought; things had almost gotten completely back to normal. They never did have that talk, but as the days passed, as more homicides came in and the two women seemed to return to some semblance of normal, Maura allowed it to fall to the wayside. Content merely to be with Jane, and ignore any lingering tensions.

The doctor had to admit that things had definitely changed. The two were more careful with one another, they tended to tiptoe around each other at the beginning of everyday, until they realized that neither was angry or leaving or rescinding on their friendship, and both would seem to sigh a huge breath of relief and would relax, until the next day.

Maura had even started hosting Rizzoli family dinners on Sunday nights again. Angela had been positively overjoyed to have her entire family back together again. Tommy and Frankie didn't really seem to mind much, neither mentioned Maura's three month hiatus. They just seemed happy to be able to watch whichever game was on that night on Maura's 52" plasma screen again. The whole reason Maura had purchased the television in the first place was with the Rizzoli's in mind, so she didn't care that they would walk in the door, kiss Mrs. Rizzoli hello, and plop down on the sofa, beers in hand. She was pleased simply to have been welcomed back into their lives, no hard feelings.

And Jane had been, well wonderful. She had become more protective of the ME after Maura's illness and witnessing the effects of Maura's nightmare, and the doctor had to admit that it was charming to be so well looked after. After the night when Maura had shown up at Jane's apartment in hysterics, the two women had slept in the same bed every single night. They hadn't planned for it to happen, but Jane had insisted for the first few days, and Maura had not had any desire to argue. And then, it seemed to become a habit. They would either go home together at the end of the day, or Jane would show up at Maura's door right before bedtime, pajamas in hand after a long shift.

They didn't talk about it. They never discussed the fact that it was strange or abnormal in any way. In fact, Maura had decided that it couldn't be that strange. It wasn't as if they were doing anything besides sleeping. It was purely plutonic. They didn't even cuddle or anything. Well, unless one of them, usually Maura, had a nightmare. In that instance, Maura would be woken up by Jane's soothing touch on her brow, her husky voice whispering reassuring nothings in the smaller woman's ear. And then Jane would wrap her arm around Maura's torso, and pull the blonde into herself so that all Maura could feel was Jane. Until Maura stopped shaking, and finally realized that Jane was still there, she wasn't going anywhere, it had simply been her unconscious playing tricks on her sleeping mind. The nightmares had been coming less frequently. There was a time when Maura would wake up two or three times a night: every time her body managed to enter the REM cycle, she would be jolted awake by the overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness. But now, it was only every other night or so, and she managed to fall back to sleep much faster, Jane always by her side.

Perhaps it was strange, and not something best friends did, but Maura didn't want to bring it up for fear that it would send Jane running for the hills. It was much better to just ignore it, to pretend that Jane had merely come over in the early morning when Angela Rizzoli would show up to make Maura breakfast. To pretend that they'd gone for a run in the morning together and that was why they carpooled to work now and then. It was much easier to simply pretend that nothing odd was going on. And the doctor had no desire to lose her nightly bed companion. She'd come to rely on Jane's presence in order to feel safe and sleep soundly. And she had to admit, at least to herself, that she enjoyed her body's physical reaction to Jane's touch. It was scary and nerve racking, trying to pretend that Jane's hand on her waist didn't cause a pit of warmth to develop in her core, that when Jane kissed her goodnight on the cheek or the top of her head, thinking Maura was already asleep, the ME didn't have to remind herself to continue taking deep slow breaths, to work to calm her elevated heart rate. It was difficult to control the wide smile that graced her features whenever Jane surprised her with lunch at the morgue or caught her eye across the café and gave her the signature Rizzoli grin. It was difficult, yes, to hide such things from the detective, but Maura was determined to let nothing get in the way of her friendship with the brunette. Not after what had happened with Doyle. Never again. Maura needed Jane. She was aware that the loss of Jane in any way would not inhibit her ability to breathe or her heart's ability to continue to circulate blood throughout her system, but she still felt a deep-seated need to have Jane nearby, to see her bright brown eyes at least once a day, even if it was just as the two dropped, exhausted into bed. It may have been illogical and emotional, but Maura felt that Jane was quickly becoming as important to her well-being as food.

Not to mention the fact that spending time with Jane seemed to lessen the tension within Maura's skull. The headaches never actually went away, not completely. There was always pressure behind her temples or at the base of her head. A pushing, pounding beat which took her attention away from whatever she was working on and caused her to feel faint if she stood too quickly. There was still that tightness in her brain which made her vision blurry and made her feel slightly nauseous if she tried to follow any fast movement too closely on the television. That pain was always there, but, when Jane was around, making Maura laugh or teasing the doctor about something or another, it was simply an annoyance, a gentle reminder that all was not well within the doctor's body.

Maura felt that she'd done a good job masking her symptoms whenever Jane was near. It wasn't that she didn't want Jane to know she was still feeling...ill, it was simply that Maura was well aware that whatever was going on, was becoming more serious every day the headaches persisted. And she didn't want to worry Jane unnecessarily. So, she had resolved to consult someone for a second opinion before speaking to the detective. That way, she would be prepared with all the facts. The doctor didn't consider it lying to Jane, simply withholding certain unnecessary information in order to protect the detective. Because Maura knew that Jane still felt guilty for the shooting in the warehouse, she herself still felt some residual guilt for her own actions, which was why, she believed, she was suffering from nightmares. And the way Jane dealt with her guilt, was by becoming extremely overprotective, but not so as to attract the attention of anyone else. There was no other explanation which the logical doctor could fathom for Jane's presence beside Maura in the bedroom every night otherwise. She just couldn't see any other reason for Jane's behavior. She couldn't.

So, she had resolved to protect Jane in the only way in which the detective would allow her to: by leaving her blissfully in the dark until she absolutely needed to be told something. It wasn't like Maura was keeping anything bad from Jane, simply a tidbit of information concerning Maura's own personal health. At least, that was what she told herself in order to maintain her perfectly healthy façade in front of the extremely observant detective.

At that moment, the doctor was eagerly awaiting the arrival of said detective. She had asked Jane if the brunette wanted the doctor to be in the courtroom that day while Jane was testifying, but the detective had waved her away, never one for allowing others to show their support of her. The doctor had been pleased when Jane seemed so certain that the perpetrator would be locked up for good by the end of the hearing. Never one for guessing, the doctor had merely trusted Jane's own gut instinct, even if they were merely intestines and incapable of predicting the future. But, when Jane had dropped her off at the BPD that morning and then headed, almost cheerily, off to the courthouse, Maura had wished her luck, and then spent the day in the morgue, anxiously awaiting a text from the detective.

She was surprised to notice that it was almost six in the evening when she checked her phone, shaking her head slightly to clear the fuzziness that was clouding her visionary spectrum. No new text messages. Maura hoped the detective would show up soon; court must have been adjourned for the day already. The doctor's headache had grown throughout the course of the day, as, with no new homicides called in, she had spent the day tied to her desk, going over old paperwork and case files, squinting to read the tiny type. She wanted Jane to come back to pick her up so they could head home, well, her home, and open a bottle of wine and sit on the couch, her feet in Jane's lap, head cushioned in a downy pillow, while she listened to the detective recount the events of her day, and Maura could allow Jane's raspy voice to tune out the aching of her own head.

* * *

Jane stepped off the elevator whistling, actually whistling. Her. Jane Rizzoli. _Detective _Jane Rizzoli. Whistling. Jesus Christ. She would have slapped her own self if she really cared. Which she didn't. Because she, _Detective _Jane Fucking Rizzoli had just testified in a done deal case and the perp was 99.9% surely going away for life for what he'd done. And she was riding high. The trial came on the heels of a string of successful cases. Normally, Jane hated spending the day in court, waiting for her turn to be called to the witness stand, but not today. No, today, she'd been a rockstar. At the top of her game. And that sick bastard was going to get what he deserved. So, she felt that she was entitled to a little whistling, a little joy.

She got off in the morgue as the elevator doors dinged open. She'd come straight down after getting back to BPD, wanting to tell Maura first, and in person. Maura, who would congratulate Jane on a case well done, who was always Jane's biggest supporter. It'd been a tough case, but they'd caught the bastard and now he was going to pay, and Jane wanted to celebrate. With Maura. She didn't know what it was, but this past month had been...amazing. And amazing was not an adjective that was normally in the detective's sarcastic vocabulary.

She and Maura were fine. Better than fine. They were great! They were closer than ever. Sure there was the whole, stomach fluttering thing whenever Maura walked into a room, or extra warmth that spread throughout Jane's body whenever she and the ME shared any form of physical contact, and sure, those things made Jane feel a little awkward and uncomfortable and unsure. But the detective usually tried to push those feelings, or whatever they were, out of her head as soon as possible, and, other than that, things were...awesome. There she went again, using those weird words that were completely out of character for her.

Jane didn't care. She and Maura were going to go out to the Robber tonight in celebration, maybe she would even be able to convince Maura to get a burger instead of one of those nasty salads. Maura had seemed hesitant to go out lately, citing tiredness too often for Jane's comfort, but not tonight. No. Tonight, they were going to drink, beer for Jane and wine for the doctor, and then they were going to go back to Maura's house, where Jane had practically moved in, and they would relax on the couch and watch tv and revel in the fact that sometimes the good guys really do come out on top. Sometimes good _can _triumph over evil. Damn. It felt good to be a cop today.

She rapped smartly on the ME's office door, bouncing on the balls of her feet and not even trying to contain the wide grin on her face. Maura looked up and smiled at the overeager detective. Jane felt her grin grow wider. The blonde was looking absolutely ravishing. No, that wasn't an appropriate friend comment to make, so instead, "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Jane joked.

Maura quirked an eyebrow at her and Jane smirked. The medical examiner was just so damn cute. And, Jane was riding high, so she didn't even care when she amended her statement to, "And cute as always." She managed not to notice the slight blush which spread across the ME's features at her words. Jane's brown eyes flicked up and down the doctor's form as Maura stood and reached for her coat lying on the chair nearby. She noticed the way Maura was trembling just the slightest bit and trying to hide it. She knew the doctor was keeping something from her, that Maura hadn't regained the weight she'd lost while the two were estranged like she should have. That she was still getting random headaches, even if she didn't want the detective to know. Jane knew. Of course. But now was not the appropriate time to bring it up.

"We did it, Maur!" Jane couldn't contain her excitement. "That sick fuc-man, excuse me, is going to rot in jail for the rest of his miserable life."

Maura beamed proudly at the detective and Jane couldn't help herself from puffing out her chest just a bit. "Congratulations, Jane. I take it court went well?"

"Swimmingly." What an un-Jane-like thing to say. But the detective didn't care. "I was going to text you, but I figured it'd be better to hear it in person. I thought we might go to the Dirty Robber for drinks. Frost and Korsak said they'd come, and Frankie, once he gets off. A little celebration dinner?"

Maura's face fell infintesimally at the suggestion, but she pulled her grin back into place almost immediately. "Certainly."

Jane had seen it though, the hesitation, and it immediately put a damper on her mood. "We don't have to, Maur. I just thought it might be fun. You haven't been out in such a while."

Maura walked over to her, bag slung on her arm, her face looking slightly guilty. "I'm sorry, Jane. Of course I want to go out with you all tonight. I'm very happy for you."

"Well, we couldn't have done it without you, Maur. You know that." Jane slung her arm over the ME's shoulder without a second thought, steering her out of the morgue before Maura could change her mind. "We won't stay too late, okay? I promise."

Maura nodded. "Alright."

As the two climbed into the elevator, Jane punched the button for Homicide. "I've gotta stop by my desk real quick and grab a couple things. Then we can go. Is that alright?"

"Alright. So, tell me about court," Maura urged.

It was all Jane needed, and she immediately launched into a description of the courtroom scene of the day, taking care to include certain details that she knew Maura would be interested in. Jane noticed the way lines of tension seemed to disappear from the doctor's face as the elevator went higher, pleased she was helping the ME relax after a day at work.

The two women stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner towards Jane's desk. Maura was laughing at a joke Jane had just made about the defendant's attorney, and Jane was facing her, gesturing with her hands to describe the man's ridiculous tendencies. Jane was basking in the ME's attention, practically glowing with the thought of a successful day and the booth awaiting them at the Robber, when all of sudden, Maura froze, the grin wiped cleanly off her face in a split second, and her face paled considerably.

"Maur?" Jane spun immediately, looking in the direction of Maura's gaze, attempting to discern what had caused the sudden reaction in her face. Her eyes lit on the figure standing beside her desk. Her face tightened into a mask of anger, her eyes going from relaxed and laughing to furious in a single second as the man turned to face the two of them.

"Dean. What in the hell are you doing here?"


	21. Chapter 21

Woah, y'all. So I wanted to try the whole cliff-hanger thing, but then life kind of got away from me and I left you guys hangin' for far too long. My bad. Hope you're still with me. This one is extra long just to make up for it. Let me know what y'all think! Love.

* * *

Jane felt a sudden emptiness at her elbow as she heard Maura turn smartly on her three inch heels and rush away. She tore her furious gaze away from the man now walking towards her to glance over her shoulder. "Maur! Maura, wait!"

"Jane?"

The sound of his voice made her furious. He had absolutely no right to be here. She debated internally for a moment, needing to go after Maura. To make sure the doctor was alright. But first, this asshole had it coming. Jane swung back around, bringing her finger up threateningly and pointing it in the FBI agent's direction. Gabriel Dean froze in place, now only four feet away from the detective.

"You," she all but growled. "You have no right, absolutely no fucking right to be here. I don't want to see you."

"Jane, c'mon," Dean looked around the room, trying to discern how many people were witnessing this spectacle. Everyone had their eyes glued to their work, but their heads cocked in the direction of the pair. "I thought maybe...by now..." he trailed off when the fire in Jane's stare didn't dissipate.

"Do you know how _long _it took for her to even speak to me again? To look at me? My best friend. And that was because of you. I told you something in confidence and you-y-you _betrayed _me," Jane was all but yelling now. She didn't give a rat's ass who heard her. "And it's all your damn fault, Dean!" The man flinched as though she'd struck him.

"Jane, I-"

"No," She doesn't want him to talk, doesn't want him to open his mouth. "Don't speak. You are never, _ever, _going to come here again. You are never going to speak to me, or to Maura ever again. Dr. Isles doesn't need to see you, or have any knowledge of when you're in town. And I most certainly do not. I had to beg her. Do you understand me? Beg. I almost lost her," Jane's voice cracks on the words, and they come out in a whisper, her chest deflating as the pain of all those months washes back over her.

Dean is watching her. He's taken a few steps back under the fury in her voice, but now, the obvious hurt there, the whispered confession brings him forward again. "Jane, I-I had to. Please, it was Doyle. We had to get him."

"I know," And she does. She understands. But she is still furious.

"What we had, Jane, I-" Gabriel rubs his hand over his face in an uncertain gesture. "Maybe we-"

"You need to leave," Jane says. "Now. Frost?" She calls, and her partner looks up from his desk where he'd pretended to be absolutely fascinated by his coffee cup.

"Jane?"

"Escort Agent Dean somewhere far, far away from this area of Boston PD, please. He can conduct his business somewhere other than next to my desk."

"Sure thing," Frost stands and Dean glares at him. The detective merely shrugs at the other man, not perturbed in the slightest. He heard what Jane said, and he knows how much she struggled after the shooting, how hard it was for her without the medical examiner around. She's his partner. The FBI agent can kiss his ass for all Frost cares.

Jane needs to go, to get to Maura. She's spent too much time here already, but she needed to make sure the agent understood exactly how much she detested him. "I mean it Dean," she threatened. "You stay away from us." And then she turned smartly and strode away, not looking back. Frost would handle it. Where was Maura? Jane had seen her bypass the elevator; she must have gone for the stairs.

The detective wrenched open the door leading to the stairwell, "Maura?" she called into the space and then started jumping down the flights, taking the steps three at a time. Two landings down, she stopped abruptly when she saw the honey blonde doctor leaning against the wall, facing away.

"Maur?" she approached slowly, unsure of the reaction she was about to get.

The ME turned to face her, dropping a hand from her temple where she'd been attempting to push away the impending headache, as illogical as that was. "How dare you?" she asks in a quiet, dangerous voice. A voice the detective has never heard from Maura. It's completely cold, unfeeling. And Jane thought she'd become accustomed to the iciness in Maura's tone, but that, that was nothing compared to the absolute frigidity the smaller woman packs into those three words.

"Maura, I," Jane is at a loss. "I didn't know he was going to be here."

"Oh, right, of course, Detective," and Jane steps back at the use of her title. Shit. "Of course. Just like in that warehouse, right? You didn't know he was going to turn up then either did you?"

"I'm sorry, Maura. You _know _I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry? Sorry?" The doctor's normally calm façade is crumbling. "You're sorry that the man you were fucking," Jane flinches. Maura doesn't swear. "just happened to show up during a _secret _investigation and shoot my father? The only living link to my biological mother. The one person who could have finally given me the one thing that I wanted, that I-I-I needed. You're sorry?!" The hysteria in Maura's voice is reaching a fever pitch. "Dammit, Jane. And then he just, what? Shows up today to woo you? To ask you to get back into bed with him, to fuck some more? And you said, yes, didn't you? Didn't you?!"

"No," Jane is adamant. "Maura, I didn't."

"I _needed _you, Jane. All those months, but I was so furious with you, with Agent Dean. But I couldn't do anything, I couldn't, couldn't function without you there. And _that _is your fault. I blame you for that. For making me need you. I was fine. Fine, before we were friends. I didn't need anyone. But then you come along with your stupid sarcastic comments and you put up with my incessant factual information and all of my, all of, all of me, and you make me a part of your stupid family and then, then, then you trusted a man you thought you had fucking feelings for. And you left me. You left me!" The tears are running down the ME's cheeks unchecked and Jane is struggling to contain her own.

The vulnerability in the doctor's voice is heartbreaking. This wasn't the way Jane wanted this conversation to go. She didn't want to have to hash out their residual feelings from the separation while their emotions were running so high. But the detective hadn't realized exactly how deep she had cut the doctor. She was aware of her own pain, her own loneliness, and had assumed that Maura had felt...something...similar perhaps. But never like this. Never something as horrible as this.

"You were gone, Jane. And I was all alone. All alone," Maura was breaking in front of her, coming apart. The brunette didn't know what to do.

"Maur," she put her hand up, as if to step forward and take the blonde into her arms, but Maura takes a wobbly step backwards, fear and hurt in her hazel eyes, glossy with tears.

"You don't get it do you?" Maura's laugh was high-pitched. "I _need _you, Jane. I can't do anything without you. I can hardly stand to breathe without you nearby. And Dean, he-he, he meant more to you. You trusted him with something that was our secret, _my _secret. You put him first."

"Please," Jane can't help the whispered plea from escaping her own lips. She knows that if Maura doesn't let her speak, the doctor will walk away, she'll escape, and Jane will be left behind again. "Maur, I didn't think, I just. I thought. Goddammit!" She turned and slammed her hand against the cinder block wall, wincing in pain at the contact as Maura jumped next to her. "I thought I _had _to tell him. That it was some sort of next step. That if I told him, he and I, we would," the contempt on Maura's face is causing Jane to lose all track of her thoughts. "Don't look at me like that, Maur. C'mon."

"Like what? Like you betrayed me? Because you did. That's what it was, Jane. A betrayal. And now _he's _here. I can't do this again, Jane," Maura rubbed at her temples furiously, trying to assuage the pressure building behind her eyes. "You may not understand what it felt like, but it was like dy-"

"No. He's gone. I sent him away." Maura stopped with her mouth open, staring at the detective in shock, tears still flowing down her cheeks. "I screwed up that day, Maura. I should never have told him what I did. You're right; I did betray you. I didn't think he would come after us. He wasn't even supposed to know what was going on in that building anyway, or where we were."

"But he knew, Jane. How did he know?"

"I'm not sure," she turned back to face the doctor and took a tentative step forward, letting out a sigh of relief when Maura didn't step away.

"Jane," it's quiet, but Jane catches it. The anguish there, the pain.

"Maura, I know, okay. I felt it too. It felt like I'd lost a part of myself when we weren't talking, like losing you was also losing me. And this past month, it's felt, God, so much better. Like living again."

"Yes," Maura nodded, studying her shoes now, refusing to meet the detective's gaze. "Yes, exactly. But when I saw him next to your desk, I couldn't think about anything except what happened with Paddy. It felt like I was all alone again as soon as I realized he was there for you. To talk to you. I had to get away, Jane." The pain in her head is demanding to be felt, but Maura knows that if she gives in to it, she'll go under. Already, her vision is blurry from the pain.

"I know," the brunette moved forward slowly, attempting not to startle the smaller woman. She reached out and touched Maura's arm, and the doctor leaned into the touch slightly.

"If I were to lose you again..."

"I know."

"I don't believe I would be able to survive it, Jane."

"I know."

"Technically speaking, yes, my body would continue to function, but me, Jane, my psyche, who I am, would be destroyed."

"Maur. Sweetie," Jane ducked her head and managed to meet the doctor's eyes. But Maura was staring, unseeing, at the concrete floor beneath their feet.

"Everyday, Jane. Every morning I wake up and wonder if today will be the day you'll grow tired of me just like everyone else. If you'll throw away our friendship for someone mo-more normal," Maura's breath hitched as a sob rose in her chest.

Jane finally allowed some tears to escape, the vulnerability in the blonde's voice demolishing any control she had retained. "Honey. I'm right here. And Dean is gone, he's not coming back. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Maura was still lost in her mind, in the imaginings of what such a day would feel like. "I couldn't live without you, Jane. I could barely come into work every morning knowing that you'd be here. That we wouldn't speak. Dammit, Jane. How did I let this happen?!" the doctor's voice is growing louder again, anger tinging her words. "I'm not supposed to need anyone. I'm a perfectly capable human being!" The pounding in her head is making it difficult to see straight, let alone think. All she knows is that she was furious at Jane, but underneath that anger there was fear. Terrifying, gut wrenching fear at the thought of returning to loneliness and isolation, at the thought that Jane might leave her bed to return to one with the FBI Agent in it, leave Maura to face the darkness alone. At the thought that she might lose her best friend once again. "It hurts," she moaned, suddenly, unable to avoid the insistent pain in her skull. "Oh, God, Jane. Please. It hurts!"

And then Jane felt the shaking underneath her fingertips. She looked down at Maura's arm, and back up just in time to see the doctor's face go white as a sheet. Jane took the final step forward and caught the doctor's thin frame as she began to crumple towards the floor. "Maur!" Jane hugged the blonde to her, sweeping the limp woman up into her arms like a child. "Maura. Maura, sweetheart?" The detective didn't know what to do. Should she call for help? Would anyone hear her? She sat instead, cradling the doctor to her chest. She felt the beating of the blonde's heart, fast, but there, and Maura's breath ghosting across her neck.

"Maura. Wake up," She shook the small form in her arms slightly, and Maura stirred in response. Thank goodness. "C'mon, honey. Wake up. It's okay. I've got you. I'm right here."

It took another moment, but eventually, Maura's long lashes fluttered open and she looked up in confusion at the detective's angular face, now directly above her. "Jane?"

"Hey there," Jane smiled down at the ME in relief and reached up to wipe away some of the residual tear tracks. "You just collapsed on me. What was that about?"

"Jane?"

"I'm right here, Maur."

The doctor's eyes closed again, her lashes resting against her still pale cheeks. She looked like a porcelain doll, perfect and still, and Jane couldn't resist shifting the two of them so that Maura was pressed even tighter into Jane's body. The closeness caused Jane to relax, her own adrenaline to dissipate. It had all happened so fast, she hadn't even realized that her body had jumped into survival mode. Maura's breathing was light, but even, and she seemed content to merely remain in Jane's arms for the time being.

After several moments during which time Jane debated internally about carrying Maura back up the flight of stairs to homicide, calling for help, or simply waiting for someone to stumble upon the two of them in the stairwell, the blonde shifted and sat up a little bit. "We need to get some fluids in you," Jane said. "Do you think maybe you wanna try to stand?"

"Not yet," Maura's voice was soft.

"Okay."

Ten more minutes passed. "Jane?"

"Hmm?" Jane rumbled.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you."

Jane shrugged. "They needed to be said. We finally had our talk, I guess."

"It was more of a shouting match."

Jane chuckled, and Maura snuggled closer. "I'm sorry I ran away."

"It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't follow you right away. I just had to make sure that he understood. That he wouldn't bother...us...again," Jane had hesitated. She didn't know exactly how to take everything Maura had revealed to her. How to interpret the deep level of need the doctor had expressed. Wasn't sure what it meant that her own feelings seemed to have mirrored the ones the doctor was feeling.

After a few more minutes, Maura was able to get shakily to her feet, leaning heavily on Jane's arm. "I could carry you..."

But Maura refused, shaking her head no. "Just take me home, Jane. Please."

Jane couldn't say no when Maura looked at her like that, hair unkempt and eyes still red and watery from the tears she'd shed earlier. So instead, she wrapped her arm around the doctor's thin waist, unhappy with how skinny and frail the smaller woman felt under her unusually gentle touch, and led them slowly down the last couple of stairs and out onto the floor where they could catch the elevator. Jane avoided the eye of anyone they passed on their way out of the precinct. She was sure that word would get around sooner rather than later that Detective Jane Rizzoli had been seen supporting a dead-looking Dr. Isles out of Boston PD that evening, but she didn't care.

Maura seemed too focused on remaining upright to notice the stares. She didn't speak again and when Jane finally lowered her into the passenger seat of the Prius, the doctor simply closed her eyes and let out a tiny sigh, lips pressed tightly together in a thin, white line. Jane tried to think of what to say on the ride back to Maura's house, but the doctor obviously wasn't in the mood to talk. She'd started rubbing her temples with a shaking hand, no longer caring whether or not the detective noticed.

Jane parked in the driveway and got out, then made her way over to the other side and opened Maura's door. The doctor made no move to get up, her gaze fixed straight ahead. So, Jane reached down and gently pulled the doctor up beside her, allowing Maura to rest most of her weight on the detective's left side. "We're home, Maur."

She unlocked the door and pulled them both inside, maneuvering them around Bass who was sitting in the hallway. Maura seemed not to have noticed her pet, in fact, it hardly seemed like she noticed they were moving at all. She was merely putting one foot in front of the other in a robotic fashion. It was starting to freak the detective out. She wasn't sure what caused the other woman to pass out in the stairwell. If it was the stress of the moment or something else, maybe the headache Maura was obviously fighting. Jane was out of her element here.

When they reached the stairs leading up to the master bedroom, Jane eyed them carefully. Sizing them up, trying to determine what the best course of action would be. Maura simply stood at her side, gazing off at nothing, her face white and her breathing shallower after the walk from the car. Eventually, Jane decided the easiest course of action would be to simply take charge of the situation, something she prided herself on being excellent at.

"Sweetie?" She tried, but when the pet name got no response, Jane shrugged. She moved Maura's arm around her shoulders and then bent to lift the doctor up. Jane may have been skinny, but she was also strong, pure muscle, really, and so she managed to carry the other woman up the steps with little hassle. When they got to the bedroom, she set Maura down on the bed. Still no response.

Jane gently unzipped the ME's dress and slid the doctor out of its silken embrace. She tried not to notice the swell of the other woman's breasts, pushed up firmly by the black lacy bra, or the matching panties down below. She forced herself to keep her eyes on Maura's unresponsive face as she redressed the other woman in a pair of her own boxer shorts and a sleep shirt. Now was not the time to let her physical reaction trump her self control. Besides, you didn't check out your best friend while she was exposed and vulnerable in front of you. You didn't check out your best friend _ever_. But the detective couldn't help the rush of heat that swooped through her when Maura's thinly clad breasts brushed against her own chest as Jane pulled the shorts up over the doctor's legs. She tried her best to ignore it, but it was more challenging than getting a confession out of a difficult perp. It was like her own personal version of hell.

She was thankful once the doctor's exquisite, shit, nice, shit, perfect, oh hell, breasts were hidden underneath the baggy Red Sox tee. Maura was still seemingly unaware of her circumstances, so Jane picked her up again and laid her head down on the pillow, pulling the covers up around the smaller woman, tucking her in.

She knew Maura probably needed to get some water into her, to rehydrate, to eat something, maybe even to go to the doctor, but she didn't want to push it. She'd let the other woman try to sleep it off, and then it'd be time to have that _other _conversation. The one Jane had been ignoring, figuring Maura would bring it up when she was ready, if it was serious. The one about why Maura didn't have an appetite, why she was hiding headaches from Jane, why she'd started squinting while reading the paper in the mornings. Tomorrow would be the time for that conversation.

Jane hovered over the doctor, whose eyes had closed as soon as Jane had laid her head down on the pillow, knowing she needed to call her mother for advice, as well as Frost. She'd been unable to get the file she needed or her gun, which was locked up in her desk at the precinct; she hadn't needed it in court all day. She needed to call Frost and ask him to drop them off at Maura's for her. She was sure that, by now, he'd heard about her and Maura's exit from the precinct. Word traveled fast, especially when it involved a detective who'd just told off an FBI agent in front of the entire homicide department, and the Chief Medical Examiner who'd appeared as if Death himself had gotten up off of her table in the morgue and come calling. She was sure Frost would be curious, but wouldn't ask any questions. He was good about that sort of thing.

The detective paused though, studying the drawn face of her best friend. Maura's lashes were still stuck together from her earlier tears and the dark circles under her eyes were a deep purple. Her cheek bones seemed to jut out from her thin face, giving the still woman a drawn, gaunt look. Jane needed to call her mother, yes. And Frost. She needed to take care of Maura though. Maura. God, she was so beautiful, even like this: exhausted and worn down.

Jane walked around to her side of the bed and kicked off her boots, then crawled under the covers. She curled her body around Maura's, wrapping her arm tightly around the smaller woman's waist, pulling her close and inhaling the scent of Maura's shampoo. The detective had understood what Maura had meant earlier, about feeling so utterly alone when the two had been fighting. And this past month, she'd felt closer to the doctor than ever before, more alive than she had in weeks. She didn't want to lose that. She didn't want to put the ME through any more pain or heartache. Jane would do everything in her power to keep the good doctor safe, to fight whatever battles she needed to in order to ensure that the doctor never felt that pain again. She was willing to be whoever the doctor needed her to be: friend, protector, bad-ass cop. But she wasn't going anywhere, and she was determined to make sure Maura knew that, to reassure the blonde again, and again if need be, that she was there and nothing would tear them apart again. The detective refused to allow it. Through sheer force of will if need be.

As she fell asleep, worn out from a full day in court and the emotional gauntlet of emotions the past hour had put her through, Jane knew that she wouldn't be able to avoid it for long, that horrible, nasty little word. The one that started with an "L." No, she wouldn't be able to ignore it, but that didn't mean she had to do anything about it, not yet at least. Maybe someday. Jane pressed a kiss to the doctor's blond curls. Hopefully someday. She shifted so it felt more as though she and Maura were one person instead of two, and then evened out her breathing until their chests were rising and falling in unison. Oh, God.

"I love you," she whispered. Saying it out loud was like coming up for air after drowning. It lifted a weight that had been pressing down on her chest, freeing her from a bondage she hadn't even realized she'd been under. She knew it was true: that even if Maura didn't feel the same way, Jane didn't care. That she felt the way she felt and there was no changing that, no going back.

She'd told Dean about Paddy Doyle because she had hoped that maybe it would make her feel...connected to the agent. She had liked Dean, had liked other men that she'd slept with in the past. But she'd never felt this overriding need to be near someone, to know they were safe, to feel them beside her in bed. She needed Maura like she imagined an alcoholic needed the drink. Except Maura didn't numb Jane, but, instead made her feel ... everything, more alive. Maura heightened Jane's every sensation, every perception. She wasn't going to lose the doctor, she vowed to herself. No matter what. Even if they were just friends who slept in the same bed at night to ward off the nightmares, and keep the blackness at bay. Even if she had to keep her feelings to herself forever. She wouldn't give the doctor up for anything. She wasn't about to put their friendship in danger ever again. "I love you, Maura Isles," she whispered again. Oh, God, hopefully someday.

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**AN2: Thoughts? **


	22. Chapter 22

**Sorry for the long wait between updates, everybody. Writer's block has got me firmly in its grasp. Hope y'all like this one. It was hard fought. Let me know what you think. Never thought I'd see 300 reviews. Keep it coming! Love!**

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Maura heard the sound of shuffling feet before the tired figure of Detective Jane Rizzoli shuffled into her kitchen. It was early still. Maura had been hoping Jane would sleep in a bit more, give her some more time to herself. She'd jolted awake at five am, unsure what it was that had woken her. She'd been surprised to find an arm wrapped snuggly around her waist, to feel someone else's breath ghosting across her neck. But, when she realized the body pressed tightly to her own belonged to Jane, she'd been even more surprised. Maura couldn't exactly recall the events of the previous day. It appeared hazy in her memory. She remembered waiting for Jane to return from court, taking the elevator up to homicide with the enthusiastic detective, Dean. She remembered him clearly. And then there had been a fight, hadn't there? An argument with Jane in the stairwell. After that, it was as if her brain had shut down. The chain of events appeared as a blur in her memory. She didn't know how she had ended up in her own bed, Jane wrapped snuggly around her, keeping her safe, holding her together. The doctor allowed the sensation to sink into her, taking note of Jane's breathing pattern: deep and slow, feeling the detective's heart beating. The warmth of her own skin where Jane was pressed against her, the ache that seemed to have settled in her core, begging for some type of release. Maura avoided the persistent throbbing with all her might, instead trying to focus on how protected she felt in the sleeping woman's hold, how perfect it was.

As the events of the previous day filtered in, Maura's guilt grew. She had said some terrible things to the other woman, had shouted them really. But Jane was still here, she hadn't left or run away. She had brought Maura home, had put her to bed, had spent the night. But Jane must know now. Maura had given into the pain, had allowed the syncope event to occur. It had consumed her. And Jane had been there, had witnessed it. She was well aware that the brunette would be unwilling to allow such an event to simply slip past unnoticed. Jane would be determined to discover the cause when she awoke. Maura wasn't sure if she was ready for that, for the interrogation that was looming, but with a sigh, she knew it was inevitable. That it was time.

Not wanting to wake the detective, Maura slipped gently out of the detective's grasp. Jane sighed at the loss of contact and Maura froze. But the lanky woman merely rolled over into Maura's vacated spot and pulled Maura's pillow into her. Breathing a sigh of relief, the doctor made her slow way to the master bath, feeling a bit shaky on her feet. She was obviously dehydrated, and her body craved nourishment. The pounding behind her temples had slackened somewhat from yesterday, but it was still there, ever-present.

Her normal morning routine took her a bit longer than usual, but she'd given it her normal attention to detail, insuring that she looked her absolute best for the day ahead, picking out her clothing with her normal care. She'd opted for flats that day, forgoing her normal heels, aware that her balance was still somewhat compromised, and unwilling to risk a poor step. So, when she heard the telltale sounds of an awake detective stumbling around upstairs, Maura had been ready, seated at the kitchen island, cup of tea in hand. But yet, she wouldn't have been opposed to more time. She was still attempting to get her thoughts in order.

Jane didn't say anything to the doctor when she entered the kitchen. Instead, she headed straight for the shiny coffee machine and poured herself a cup first. After several slow sips of the hot beverage, she turned to face Maura and leaned back against the counter top. Maura waited patiently. She allowed Jane's piercing gaze to wander over her figure, allowed the detective time to assess Maura's posture and appearance. When the detective dropped her brown eyed gaze, Maura relaxed slightly, knowing she'd passed some sort of silent test.

Jane still didn't speak. It was up to her then. Time to grab the bullet, or something along those lines. Maura was never very good with such idiomatic expressions.

"I have an appointment this afternoon," she began softly, pleased when Jane looked up at her. "I called in a favor with one of my acquaintances from medical school." She knew the use of the word acquaintance was not lost on the detective. Maura didn't have many 'friends' from her past, and she knew that it pained Jane to be reminded of it. The detective had always taken it so hard when she heard about how socially isolated Maura had been before they'd met. She seemed to almost take it personally. Maura honestly didn't mind. She'd resigned herself to such a life of solitude when she was quite young. But Jane had always looked a bit angry whenever she heard about some painful facet of Maura's past. And this instance was no different. Jane looked both relieved and curious, but Maura could detect a simmering anger behind her expression. No, the use of the word had not gone unnoticed by the observant detective.

Maura pressed on. "Dr. Wilde is one of the best in his field. He has won multiple awards, participated in several ground breaking trials-"

"What field?" Jane's voice was deeper than usual. Husky after a night of sleep.

Maura was spinning her ring on her finger, a nervous habit, but one which she found extremely difficult to break. "Neurology."

Jane stiffened at the word.

"The appointment is for three o'clock, at Mass Gen."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I-" Maura couldn't lie. "I think, well, I was going to wait. Until after. Until there were some results, some type of data..." she trailed off, unsure how to read the surly expression aimed her way.

"But you're telling me now." It was a question.

"After yesterday...I...wanted you to be aware."

Jane was staring at her, and Maura couldn't meet her eye. Couldn't stand to see the disappoint in those deep brown eyes. Perhaps she should have waited until afterwards.

"You should have told me, Maura." Jane's voice didn't sound angry. Maura chanced a glance up. She was surprised to find that the detective didn't look angry either. Her lips were pulled down, her eyes hooded, her forehead wrinkled, the muscles in her cheeks taught. All were markers of sadness, exhaustion, worry. Not anger though.

"Jane."

"How did you think I wouldn't notice, Maur?" Jane sounded truly curious.

"Yesterday, I-"

"Not just yesterday," Jane looked frustrated now, but she took a step forward, towards where the doctor was sitting. "The past few days, past few weeks."

"I'm sorry," Maura whispered. And she was. She'd wanted to tell Jane, to explain her symptoms, to let the decisive detective take charge. To take care of her. It would have been the intelligent decision. She should have made an appointment earlier. Maura had acted extremely out of character. But, for perhaps the first time in her life, she had not wanted to know, had avoided the scientific approach. Had approached a situation in a completely emotional manner.

Jane was next to her now, reaching out hesitantly, covering Maura's hands with her own, stopping the incessant tick Maura had developed. "How did you think I wouldn't notice, Maur? Wouldn't worry."

"I suppose that I-I didn't think, Jane."

"Isn't that usually my job?" Maura laughed slightly at Jane's attempt at humor. Jane gave her a small smile.

"I should have told you, Jane."

"I should have asked," Jane responded. She looked at Maura solemnly, and Maura had to stifle a giggle. It was a serious moment and would have been completely inappropriate to laugh, but the look on Jane's face was too adorable.

"It's alright," Maura gave the detective a reassuring smile.

"But I saw, Maura. I knew when you were hurting and I didn't ask. It's my job to ask."

"No it isn't, Jane."

"Yes. That's what best friends do. It's my job to know, t-to take care of you."

Maura had stopped smiling now. Jane looked as if she were about to cry. Maura could count on one hand the number of times she had seen the detective's lacrimal glands activate. She didn't want this. She hadn't expected Jane to blame herself. There was no reason for it. Maura was the one who had been afraid. She hadn't wanted to know what was wrong with her because she was afraid of her hypotheses. She hadn't wanted to know because that would mean telling Jane, and she didn't want Jane to perceive her as weak or sick.

"Jane. Please. It isn't your fault. It could simply be tension headaches caused by stress or a myriad of other factors. It could be a simply fix. But whatever it is," here Maura paused and made sure she had Jane's full attention. "Whatever it is, it's my fault for refusing to seek treatment earlier. Do you understand?" Maura relaxed when Jane finally nodded.

"I'm sorry, Maura."

"Oh, Jane. I'm the one who's sorry."

Jane suddenly let go of the doctor's hands and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. She pulled Maura into her, and the blonde didn't protest. Because she was still seated and Jane was standing, her head fell directly above the taller woman's heart. The steady beating calmed her and Maura rested her arms on Jane's middle. They stayed that way for several moments until Jane pulled away. Maura immediately missed the warmth and comfort, but, thankfully, Jane took her hands once again.

"So. Three?"

"Mhmm," Maura affirmed. "Would you, maybe if you could, that is to say-"

"Yes."

"How did you know what I was going to say?"

"I know you, Maura. And yes, I'll be happy to take you." Maura had never been more grateful for Jane than in that moment. She and the detective were very different people, but both struggled with asking for any type of assistance.

"You might be busy with work," Maura tried. She wanted Jane to take her, to hold her hand the entire time. She wanted to feel Jane's calming presence by her side, but she was loathe to take Jane away from her job. She didn't want to be a bother.

Jane seemed able to read her thoughts however, because she pulled Maura into another quick hug. "It's fine, Maur. I want to go." Maura knew that on some level, this was a lie. Jane hated hospitals. But she didn't care.

"Okay. You should go get ready then. We don't want to be late."

"Late?"

"For work, Jane."

Jane stared at her. "You aren't going to work today."

Maura stared back. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Jane threw her hands up into the air. "You have got to be the most stubborn woman ever," the brunette muttered under her breath. "For Christ's sakes, Maur!"

"Language, Jane," Maura admonished. "And I am perfectly capable of working this morning."

"You were practically comatose yesterday!" Jane's voice was raising in her agitation as she turned away from the doctor and began to pace around the kitchen. "Why can't you just take the morning off? I'll come back here and pick you up at two thirty."

"That is not your decision to make," Maura said firmly.

"No. You're right. It's not. But, if you aren't going to take care of yourself then I'll have to do it for you."

"I'm a grown adult, Jane. I understand my own physical and mental limitations," Maura tracked Jane's progress around the room with her eyes.

"Do you?" Jane pointed a finger at her. "Because from what I've seen, you haven't done a very good job lately."

Both women froze, staring at one another. Jane's chest was heaving, but Maura was stock still. Maura wanted to be furious that Jane would question her, but she recognized the truth behind the detective's angry words, the pain there.

Maura _was _a grown woman. She could make her own decisions. Jane couldn't force her to do anything. But, "Please, Jane. I can't just sit here all morning by myself. Please." She didn't need to ask her friend's permission. But, Maura knew that if Jane wanted her to stay home, she would do it.

Jane sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. "I'm sorry, Maur. Of course if you think you want to go in, you should. It's not my place to stop you," Jane turned dejectedly and headed for the stairs. "I'll be down in just a few minutes and we can go."

"Jane," Maura said softly, pausing the brunette at the bottom of the steps. "Thank you," it was ambiguous and unclear, even to herself, what she was thanking the detective for. Wether it was for caving just now, or agreeing to take Maura to her appointment, or for sending Dean away the previous day, Maura didn't know.

The speed with which Jane was back at her side left the doctor a little breathless. Maura closed her eyes as Jane ran a hand gently down her cheek. "I just worry about you," it was whispered, so faint the doctor almost missed it. Her eyes fluttered open and met the expressive gaze of her best friend. They were so close, Maura could have leaned forward and pressed her lips to Jane's effortlessly. She could feel the ache building in her again, in her chest and her core. But she resisted and instead, brought her own hand up to cover the rough one cupping her cheek.

"Thank you," she repeated.

Jane shifted slightly, and, for a moment, Maura thought her heart had skipped a beat as Jane's lips brushed her forehead. When the detective pulled back, Maura observed a flush working its way up her neck, and she thought she recognized the emotion swirling in Jane's brown eyes. But she couldn't be certain.

"Do you promise to take it easy today?" Jane asked softly.

Maura didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded in confirmation as Jane looked at her searchingly.

The detective seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for because she gave a nod as well. "Good. But I'll be checking up on you," it wasn't a question or a request. And then she was gone and Maura fell forward several steps at the loss. She stood there, rooted to the spot, long after Jane had retreated upstairs to get ready, her hand still on her own cheek, forehead burning where Jane had kissed her.

It felt as though Maura was lighter, as though the press of gravity had decreased somewhat now that she was sure Jane didn't hate her for keeping something to herself. It was true that Jane hadn't asked her to elaborate on her symptoms, hadn't pressed the issue more than was necessary. But she had agreed to take the ME to the doctor. Had forgiven Maura her silence. And that was more than the doctor had been expecting. She felt much better knowing Jane would be there, would keep her safe. Jane had no power over physical ailments, Maura knew, and it was irrational that one person could set her mind so at ease, but, in that case, Maura was irrationally happy to have Jane by her side.

She spent the minutes waiting for the detective examining her feelings and reactions to Jane's presence as one might the results of a scientific experiment. She had always appreciated Jane's striking natural beauty. Although not exactly feminine, Jane cut a handsome figure. Her facial construction was flawless. But, recently, Maura found herself appreciating Jane in a more intimate way. Her body often reacted physically to Jane's touches and gestures, and she felt more emotionally stable while in the detective's commanding presence. The pull Jane exerted on her was more forcefully than any attraction Maura had ever experienced. Maura was well aware of the hormones and physical reactions involved in attraction, but she had also read that there might exist some deeper connection between two humans who were extremely compatible. Something that was, as of yet, unexplained by science.

When Jane reentered the kitchen, her hair still wet and untamed from the shower, and walked past Maura to refill her coffee cup, Maura caught the unique scent that _was _Jane. Even though the detective had showered with Maura's shampoo, the doctor could still detect Jane beneath it. In fact, she found the strange mix of her own soap and Jane's natural scent unusually pleasurable.

It wasn't until Jane repeated herself louder that Maura realized she had been staring at the brunette with a blank look on her face. "Earth to Maura," Jane said, waving her hand at the doctor. "You ready?"

Maura snapped out of her daze. "Yes," she said quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Jane. Let me just get my bag," Maura stood up from her spot at the island, but was stopped again as Jane strode towards the hallway. Maura could recognize Jane's distinctive stride anywhere, the way the tall woman seemed almost to swagger as she walked. But she had never before truly appreciated the confidence with which Jane walked, how firm she appeared with her back straight, shoulders steady, the way she commanded the floor she glided across. It was a dance of both power and gracefulness.

Maura followed hesitatingly after, sliding into the jacket Jane held out for her gratefully and picking up her bag. Jane smirked at her as she held the door. And as Maura walked towards her car, she knew three things: Jane was going to insist upon driving, she felt completely at ease with allowing Jane to be in control in such a manner, and she had feelings for Jane which exceeded the limit of friendship. Strong feelings.


	23. Chapter 23

AN - Y'all are feisty, and I love it! Keep those reviews coming. This one is kind of choppy, but I couldn't seem to get it right. But, thanks for sticking with me through the slow build. Our two favorite ladies will get there. Things are a'comin'. I promise. Love.

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After dropping Maura safe and sound in the morgue, Jane made her way up to Homicide. She'd insisted on driving, on escorting Maura to the café, where, thankfully, Angela was absent. She'd listened with half an ear as Maura had described the health benefits of green tea versus caffeinated coffee, nodding when appropriate and shooting Maura annoyed glances when called for. It was fairly easy to keep Maura talking when you knew what you were doing. Although Jane often acted as though Maura's incessant googlemouth frustrated her, she really did pay attention to the good doctor's ramblings...most of the time. This morning had not been one of those times. But, in the grand scheme of things, Jane assumed that Maura would forgive her.

The detective had then insisted on riding down to the morgue with the blonde, making sure Maura was settled in behind her desk before Jane made her own exit. Maura had tried to insist that she was capable of beginning the work day on her own, but Jane had ignored those comments as well. Although she may have acted nonchalant and relaxed when she woke up in Maura's bed that morning, the detective was anything but calm.

Relieved as she was that Maura had finally made a doctor's appointment, and that she had brought Jane in on it, the detective was struggling. Her emotions were going haywire, and she couldn't seem to get them under control. Jane liked being in control. She prided herself on her ability to get a handle on a situation, to be the steady man in a storm. And, on the outside, for Maura, she was. She had offered to take the blonde to meet this Dr. Wilde later that afternoon like it had been no big deal. She'd managed to hold it together the entire drive in to the precinct, keeping her mouth shut and eyes on the road.

But inside, she had been bursting with questions. Did Maura have any idea what it might be? The doctor didn't guess, but she must have some sort of scientific hypothesis or whatever. What were her symptoms exactly? How long had she been hiding them? Was it really so serious? How worried, exactly should Jane be? She'd kept all such questions to herself, focusing instead on the fact that she'd be taking another afternoon off from work, that Frost and Korsak would be curious as to why, that she felt as if she were drowning in guilt. God, it was going to be a long morning, had been the most present thought.

Jane walked off the elevator with none of her usual swagger. She sat dejectedly down at her desk.

"Morning, Jane," Korsak said.

"Morning," she grunted. When she caught the curious glance Vince shot Frost over her head, she forced herself to straighten in her seat and clear her throat. "Morning," she managed a bit more strongly. Thankfully, both men knew better than to ask what was bothering her.

She tapped her desk with a long finger thoughtfully for a moment, "Is Cavenaugh in?"

Frost glanced in the direction of their superior's office. "I saw him come in about twenty minutes ago."

Jane popped out of her chair. "Thanks." Maura may have been able to take days off willy-nilly because she had an entire army of little forensic minions underneath her, but Jane was sure her boss would not appreciate it if the detective suddenly disappeared for another afternoon. She took a deep breath and then knocked firmly on the door, waiting for her boss to call her in, before entering.

"Rizzoli," Cavenaugh said gruffly when he looked up from the file open in front of him to find the woman standing awkwardly in front of his desk. "Did you and Frost clear that Richardson case?"

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"And court yesterday?"

"It went well, sir. They should be closing today." The brunette realized she was rubbing the scars on her palms nervously and forced her hands to still.

"Well done," Cavenaugh commented.

"Thank you, sir." There was a pause. "Sir," she began.

Cavenaugh was staring at her. Jane was usually quite forward with the Lieutenant, and nervous Rizzoli was not something he was familiar with.

"I need to- I came to ask- I have to-"

"Well, spit it out, Detective. I don't have all day," he encouraged.

Jane bristled. "I have to take the afternoon off," she spit out.

"Again?" Cavenaugh leaned back in his chair. "You seem to be taking quite a few days off lately. Never thought I'd see Detective Jane Rizzoli slacking." He knew that would get a rise out of her.

"I'm not _slacking _off," Jane forced her words out around a grimace.

"Oh really?" The older man asked innocently.

"You don't want me to take the day off? Fine! I won't take the day off!" She turned and began to stomp towards the door.

"Detective," her superior's barking voice stopped her in her tracks.

She stared at him, fuming, and Cavenaugh could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. Sometimes she as just too easy. "Would you care to explain _why _you need the afternoon? Or should I send you down to evidence management until you cool your jets?"

"No thank you," she groaned out at the thought of being stuck in the basement with the moles. "Sir," she added grudgingly at the look on the Lt.'s face.

"So..." Cavenaugh pressed. He was more than willing to give Jane the time off. Hell, he'd give her a month off if she asked for it. Jane had been working homicide for five years and she only took time off if someone tied her to her bed and physically restrained her from entering the brick. He'd gotten into enough shouting matches with the stubborn woman about medical leave and using her vacation time to last a lifetime. But, Cavenaugh liked to see his best detective squirm. At least a little bit.

Jane, meanwhile, was staring at her boss. She knew he wanted an explanation for her recent string of absences, but she couldn't give him one, not a truthful one anyway. It wasn't exactly her place to explain to her boss that his Chief Medical Examiner was suffering from some sort of physical illness. That was Maura's explanation to give. She didn't really want her boss to understand exactly how close she and the doctor were either. That was their own personal business. Sure, they might have called themselves best friends, but Jane was aware that, to outsiders, it might look like something...else.

"It's...personal," she stuck with.

"Personal?" Cavenaugh inquired, and Jane stifled the urge to swear at the man. That wouldn't go over so well.

"Yes, sir. Personal." She stared him down.

Cavenaugh almost laughed at how fierce Jane appeared. "Does this have anything to do with Dr. Isles?"

Jane stiffened at the mention of the doctor. She may have been the best interrogator in Boston PD, may have been able to hide her reactions and emotions from nearly anyone when she set her mind to it, but Cavenaugh knew Jane's feelings for Maura often lay closer to the surface than Jane would have anyone believe. When Jane finally opened her mouth to respond, Cavenaugh decided enough was enough. He waved his hand at her. "Fine, Rizzoli. Take the afternoon. But I expect to see you back behind your desk Monday morning ready to work."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Jane couldn't hide the gratitude in her voice. Normally, she would have merely stormed out, secretly pleased that she got her way, content in her insolence. But, she couldn't bring herself to muster her normal level of rudeness. She hadn't realized until he agreed that she was extremely nervous about being kept from Maura's appointment.

As his door shut behind Rizzoli, Cavenaugh was left to ponder the exchange. He'd been expecting Jane to walk out, still furious with him. But she had seemed...different, not fiery as he'd expected. Could this thing with the Doc be more serious than he had thought? He'd have to talk to Korsak about this. Cavenaugh had quite a bit of money riding on Jane and the Doc, as did most of men in Homicide...and he didn't want to lose out. It may have been unethical, but waiting for those to to catch on to what everyone else seemed to be aware of was one of the most entertaining perks of the workday. At first, he'd tried to shut the betting pool down, knowing that some would take it as an opportunity to rag on the best female detective the Boston PD had ever seen. But Korsak and Frost did a good job of shutting down any such talk, and Cavenaugh was more than willing to let them take matters into their own hands. What Jane didn't know, wouldn't hurt her, and he certainly had a lot riding on how it all played out. Hmmm...he mused. Once Rizzoli left for the afternoon, he'd certainly have to talk to Vince. Maybe the Sargeant could give him some insight.

Cavenaugh also knew that Jane if was taking time off for the Medical Examiner, and if Dr. Isles had been taking time off for illness, he might have to think about speaking to the doctor. It wasn't really his place; he wasn't her superior. But Cavenaugh truly cared for every member of his team, (well, except for Crowe; that bastard could rot for all he cared), but he made sure to support them all equally in his own way, even Crowe. And if the doctor was going through some sort of tough time, Cavenaugh would be concerned and as supportive as he could be. He may have come off as harsh and uninterested, but part of what made the Lt., such a good leader, was his quiet support. He'd keep an eye on Jane and Maura for now. It was the least he could do.

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Unsure what to think about her impromptu meeting with Cavenaugh, Jane sat back down at her desk, avoiding the looks from her partner and Korsak. They could wonder all they wanted. Jane wasn't about to hash out what had just happened with anybody else. Jane was unsure how to proceed. Normally, she would run straight for the morgue in order to bitch and moan about how unreasonable and controlling her boss was. But, Jane didn't have a lot of experience with just...getting her way. Usually she had to fight for every single success. She was used to fighting, to arguing, to proving to everyone around that she deserved to be here, to be a member of Boston Homicide, deserved their respect, and their trust. And the Lt., yes, he'd made her grovel a little, but it had been unnaturally easy to get him to agree.

Jane finally decided that maybe she should just go with it, take the time off without complaint. It didn't say anything negative about her that Cavenaugh so willingly gave her a pass to be absent from the Brick...did it? No. It couldn't. She _did _have a reputation of pulling ridiculous hours and racking up major vacation time that she never used. In fact, Jane was fairly certain that she could have taken an entire month of paid vacation by now. Maybe, her boss knew that. Maybe. Or could he possibly know something about Maura. What if Maura had talked to him about it? Knowing the responsible and ever professional doctor, Jane could see Maura informing Cavenaugh of her condition, or whatever the hell it was, merely out of professional courtesy. But, no. Maura hadn't told anyone. She hadn't simply been hiding it from Jane, but from all of the Rizzoli's, and everyone at BPD.

Which then caused Jane to wonder if Maura hadn't also been attempting to hide from herself. It was so un-Maura like to have gone this long, however long that had been, without searching for a reason, for a definition or an explanation. Maura lived for science, for finding the truth. She couldn't tell a lie, for goodness' sake. But she could flit around the truth better than anyone Jane knew, the detective mused. Maura was a master at avoiding sensitive information and still presenting the facts. Perhaps she had used her skills against herself.

Following this line of thought, Jane was drawn deep into her musings. She didn't even notice when a call came in, which Korsak answered and left to attend to. Flipping on her computer, she remembered the name Maura had mentioned, Dr. Wilde, Dr. Ryan Wilde, an old 'acquaintance' from before she and Jane had ever met. Jane may not have understood all the medical definitions and crap, but she did understand people. She wasn't planning on going into this meeting completely unprepared. Maura had said that Dr. Wilde had won a bunch of awards. The detective decided to do what she did best. So she spent the rest of the morning learning all she could about Dr. Wilde and his field, packing her brain so full of neurological terms, she thought it might explode, determined to know as much as she could, so she didn't look like a fool in that meeting, so she could support Maura in whatever way she could. Jane didn't know what was going to happen at three o'clock, but she did know that she wanted to be as ready for it as possible.

* * *

At two in the afternoon, Maura was surprised by a knock at her door. True to her word, she'd taken it easy, spending the entire day behind her desk, looking through old files and researching the effects of freezing on potential victims. She'd gotten interested in the field after a recent case, and planned on learning as much as she could on the subject. When she looked up and found Jane standing in the doorway, grinning shyly at her, she saved her research and flipped off the monitor.

"Jane! You're early," she enthused.

Jane shrugged and entered the office, "I thought we might head up to the café and grab some lunch before we go."

Maura had avoided thinking about the doctor's appointment as much as possible. It was merely a meeting with an old colleague. Maura assumed Dr. Wilde would merely take a medical history, ask several questions about her symptoms, and perhaps run several tests. Maura was aware that she should be nervous, or anxious, or some other anticipatory emotion. But, knowing Jane would be with her, calmed her, as well as the fact that the doctor could, on her own, come to several scientific explanations for her recent physical discomfort, and therefore was merely prepared for her own hypotheses to be either confirmed or thrown out. That was the way science worked. Maura trusted in the method. And so she allowed herself to mask her emotions with logic.

"Certainly," she responded. She stood carefully and made her way around the desk, packing up her purse as she went. When she looked up again, Maura caught Jane glancing over her, attempting to read her, but the detective glanced down as soon as she saw the doctor looking.

Maura wanted to put the detective at ease. She was sure Jane's own, less scientific mind and somewhat obsessive personality had caused the detective to spend the morning fixated on three o'clock. Well, she wasn't sure, but she had caught herself hoping that Jane was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about the brunette. Maura may not have been worried about the appointment, but she had been fixated on the time because it meant she would once again have a reason to be near the detective.

"Maura?" Jane asked. The doctor had paused halfway across the room, lost in her thoughts. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, yes, Jane. Thank you for coming down. I most likely would have forgotten about lunch otherwise."

"Interesting case?" Jane responded.

"I'm doing some simply fascinating research on the effects of freezing on the breakdown of muscular tissue in a body over a long-term period, and how one might possibly identify a time of death after an indeterminate time has passed," Maura was so focused on her description that she missed Jane's grin.

"Sounds fascinating," Jane quipped.

"It really is, Jane! There has been little experimentation done on the subject and so much room for more research!"

"Thinking about hopping on the bandwagon, Doctor Isles?"

Maura stared at Jane in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Jane."

The detective merely huffed out a good nature side and took Maura's elbow, leading her towards the elevator. "C'mon, smarty pants. Lunch is calling our names, and I, for one, am starving."

"But, Jane," Maura continued to protest as the two made their way upstairs.

"It's an expression, Maur. Shouldn't you have, like, studied them or something. You're always so confused when someone uses one. You'd think you would've picked up a book on it by now."

"My interests have always tended less towards the anthropological side of things, Jane. My attention on the use of such common English idioms has often been distracted by other things. Perhaps you're correct, though. Maybe it is time for me to examine the subject further."

Jane rolled her eyes as the two stepped into the café. "Whatever you say, Maur. Just don't go all crazy on me about it. I don't think I could take more language lessons than you already give me."

"Those aren't exactly language lessons, Jane. I merely help you with your grammar from time to time. When it's warranted."

"Right," Jane growled, removing her hand from Maura's arm where it had been resting their entire journey up to the café, and stepping up to the counter to order for them. "Grab us a seat?" She threw over her shoulder.

But Maura was suddenly stuck in place as she finally perceived the loss of the slight pressure on her forearm. She hadn't even registered the touch while it was happening but, now that it had stopped, she missed it immediately. All morning, she'd been fighting her headache, fighting the pressure at the base of her skull and behind her eyes to read the small print on the computer screen, but as soon as Jane had appeared, her presence had overtaken all of Maura's senses. Her energy, her scent, her touch had overridden the ache in her skull, pushed the pain to the background. And now she was left stranded in the middle of the café.

Jane was only five feet away, but it seemed an almost insurmountable distance. And Maura was frozen. She needed to get them a table, to do as Jane had asked, but she couldn't seem to force her body to cooperate and turn away from the profile now presented to her. She allowed herself the freedom of examining Jane from the side. The brunette was tall and slender, and she leaned forward slightly as she spoke to Stanley, her hair falling down along her face, so Maura couldn't make out her sharp cheekbones or excellent jawline. And Maura realized, with a bit of a shock, that she was disappointed by that fact.

Before she was aware of it, she found herself directly next to the detective, her arm brushing against Jane's. The taller woman turned to her in surprise. "Hey, did you get us a table?"

"Um," Maura didn't say anything else, because now that Jane was looking at her, she had unrestricted access to examine the other woman's bone structure. It truly was exquisite.

"Maur?" Jane asked. "I got you the greek salad. Dressing on the side of course. Is that good?"

Maura nodded, noting the blush that was working its way up from Jane's chest. The detective was embarrassed by Maura's obvious examination, but she didn't turn away.

"Was the salad what you wanted?" Jane asked instead.

"Yes, thank you," Maura murmured. Her gaze flitting across Jane's pink lips. There was the sheen of lip gloss there, not lipstick, no, but something. Maura resisted the urge to reach out and run her finger across them. "Your bone structure is fascinating, Jane," she heard herself say, as if from a distance.

"Maura," Jane groaned, and then she turned away, and the spell was broken.

Maura took a step back, returning to a more comfortable distance. She glanced around the room, thankful no one was looking their way. What she had just done was not exactly socially acceptable. At least, she didn't think it was.

And Jane avoided looking at her as she picked up the salad and sandwich, Stanley had slammed down on the counter between the two of them. Maura let the detective lead them to a free table, and she opened her salad silently and began to eat, placing the lettuce in her mouth mechanically. Whatever had just happened crossed an unspoken line. Maura had allowed her desire to overtake her, something she'd promised herself wouldn't happen, and in a public place no less. The doctor chanced a look over at her companion from underneath her eyelids.

Jane appeared comfortable. She seemed to have written off Maura's comment as just another strange expression by the doctor. Maura breathed a sigh of relief, and focused more intently on her lunch.

Jane soon began to talk in order to fill the silence. And soon, the two were involved in a debate concerning Maura's involvement in Sergeant Korsak's diet.

"He doesn't need you to be his mother or life coach or whatever," Jane insisted.

"But, I enjoy helping, Vince. He's attempting to live a more healthy lifestyle and I am completely supportive of that, Jane. You should be as well," Maura gave the brunette a pointed look and Jane scoffed.

"He can eat whatever he wants, Maur. You can't just put someone on a diet because you feel like it."

"Well it's worked with you," Maura smirked as Jane's mouth opened and closed in disbelief.

"I'm not on a diet."

"Sure you are, Jane."

"I might eat a little healthier now, but so what?"

"You have significantly decreased your red meat intake, you now eat _some _green vegetables, and you drink a glass of water for every alcoholic drink. That's a healthier eating plan than you were on before."

Jane stared at her for a moment, seemingly trying to come up with some sort of disagreement. Finally, she broke out into a grin, "How _did _you manage that?"

Maura looked at her in confusion, "Do what, Jane? You're the one whose eating pattern has been changed.

"Yeah, but, it's because of you."

"Well, perhaps I aided in some way, however - "

"No way, Maur. I don't know how you managed it, but somehow you've got me eating green stuff. Damn, you're good," Jane took a big bite of her sandwich.

"Language," Maura murmured.

Jane smiled at her and Maura felt a fluttering within her. The feeling only increased when Jane reached out a hand and covered one of Maura's. "Thanks for looking after me," she whispered. And Maura looked at their hands and then up into Jane's brown eyes.

"You're welcome," she responded, still somewhat confused at the turn this argument had taken.

Jane broke off the moment suddenly when she jumped out of her chair. "It's 2:30," she announced, and with surprise, Maura realized she was correct. "We should go."

They threw away their waste and headed for the exit, Jane in the lead. Maura felt suddenly anxious as they left the precinct. Jane had been excellent at helping Maura forget what was happening that afternoon, and in turn, the doctor knew that she too had been of assistance to the detective. But as they left BPD behind and headed for Maura's car, she saw the tension make its way back up Jane's spine, and she felt her headache building.

* * *

The drive to Mass Gen was quiet and strained. Throughout lunch, Jane had not brought up the impending appointment once, but now, she was gripping the wheel tightly, and tapping the other against the gear shift. Maura watched her for several moments, choosing to focus on Jane, instead of her own nerves. After several moments of hesitation, Maura reached out and looped her fingers in between Jane's, effectively stilling the detective's anxious motion. Jane glanced over at her in surprise and then focused back on the road.

"I looked him up," the brunette blurted suddenly. Maura waited. "Dr. Wilde. I spent all morning on it actually," she sounded a bit embarrassed and Maura gave their intwined hands a squeeze. "He looks good. Smart."

"He is," Maura agreed. "One of the best."

"Is it that bad, Maur?" Jane asked sounding suddenly smaller somehow. She had yet to address the reason for the visit directly.

"I don't know, Jane," the blonde answered honestly. "But Ryan _is _one of the best. And he agreed to get me in as soon as possible."

"How long?" Jane asked.

"What?"

"How long did you wait before making the appointment."

Maura tensed slightly, and tried to decide how to answer. "As long as I thought I could," she finally replied.

Jane pulled into a parking space, but left the car running. "I meant what I said this morning, Maur. About wanting to be here for you. And, whatever it is, I'll be here. No matter what. But, I'm not good at all this medical stuff."

"It's alright, Jane," Maura looked at her friend encouragingly.

"So, this could be nothing right? These headaches?"

"They could," Maura said softly.

"But you don't think they are?"

Maura tightened her grip and turned to face the detective, positioning her body so that she appeared completely open to the other woman. "I'm often dizzy, and my vision is blurred. I have experienced several events of syncope, and am suffering from a severe loss of appetite. I lose focus easily and have trouble following print. My depth perception has been suffering as well. These symptoms could be related to multiple different things, Jane. You have to understand that. But, I also ignored the effects on my body and motor function for as long as possible, meaning they have been getting worse. This appointment today could tell us many things, but I will be sure to explain whatever it is you want to know. I'm sorry I kept the full extent of it from you, but I want you there with me. And I am so grateful to you for bringing me. I understand if you don't wish to come up, but I hope you do."

Jane had listened carefully, not once looking away as Maura tried to explain the situation a bit more, something she hadn't really done that morning. When it appeared she was finished, the brunette took a deep breath, let it out, looked down at their conjoined hands, and smiled carefully at the doctor. "Well then," she said. "Guess it's time to face the music."

Maura felt the question on the tip of her tongue and Jane smirked.

"Expression, Doc." Jane let go and turned the car off and then opened her door. "I'm here, Maur," she said seriously, looking back at the blonde over her shoulder.

Maura opened her own door and stepped out onto the pavement. Jane locked the car behind them and then joined Maura on her side of the car as the blonde led them into the hospital. Jane reached out and grabbed the doctor's arm just before they reached the front doors.

"I want to be here, Maur," she said, almost forcefully. "I want to be here for you."

"Thank you," Maura responded, more grateful than ever that Jane was so strong. So incredibly strong.

Jane pulled her into a rough hug, and Maura let herself be held, rested her head on Jane's chest and heard the detective's strong heartbeat beneath her ear. They stayed that way for a moment, wrapped together, both unaware that the other was taking just as much comfort in the embrace as themselves. Jane was her rock, Maura realized in that moment. And no matter what Ryan discovered, or what her body tried to tell her, or how her feelings had been changing, Jane was her safe place. And Jane's arms were her safe harbor. And she never wanted to lose that place.

Seeming to read her mind, Jane's arms tightened around her and then let go, falling to the brunette's side. Maura stepped back and stared up into expressive brown eyes, darker than their normal soft brown, fiercer. Jane reached out and ran a single finger down Maura's cheek. She let it fall, but Maura caught her hand and wrapped it in her own, a tingle running up her spine as they fit perfectly together.

"Is this okay?" she asked softly.

But, Jane didn't respond directly, instead leading them towards the doors, ready to face whatever was about to be thrown at them, knowing there was no going back now, knowing that this could be serious, could be horrible, or it could merely be a scare, an overreaction, but also knowing that it didn't matter. There was no going back.

Their hands were clasped tightly as they stepped into the cold, recycled air of the hospital, holding them together, connecting them, keeping them upright, readying them for whatever was about to come.

* * *

**AN2 - So, they're ready. Are y'all? Reviews are excellent. **


	24. Chapter 24

AN - I'm getting egg threats, y'all. Egg threats. That's a little harsh. But...if that's the way you feel... Can I just say, for the record: I'm planning on a happy ending. Sorry this one is a bit discombobulated. Enjoy, nuggets.

* * *

Jane isn't fully aware of anything except for the pressure of Maura's hand in her own. She isn't really hearing the words leaving Dr. Wilde's mouth, isn't understanding the sentences he is spewing forth. Maura's soft spoken answers are like white noise somewhere beside her. All Jane can really focus on is the feeling of Maura's smooth palm against her own, rough, scarred one, the softness of her skin under Jane's thumb as she moves it back and forth. It's meant to be a soothing gesture, but Jane isn't sure who she is trying to reassure: herself, or the unnaturally reserved woman beside her.

Jane's first impression of Dr. Ryan Wilde had been positive. He was friendly, open, handsome, well-dressed. He came off as charming and kind, but not overly so. Maura had introduced them, not letting go of Jane's hand the entire time, even when Ryan had leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, then pointed them into the chairs in front of his desk.

She had followed the discussion at first, the pleasantries, the small catching up the two had done. And then she'd paid close attention as Maura had run through the list of her symptoms, sounding almost completely removed from the situation, almost clinical. Jane had heard the words leaving the ME's mouth, had matched up her vision of the blonde over the past few months with the picture Maura was painting, had discovered just how much she'd seen, and even more so, how much she had missed.

But, she'd pushed off the guilt for now, held it removed from herself. This was about Maura, not about Jane, or about her feelings, or their friendship, or their...whatever. And so she'd tried to remain steadfast, to focus instead on 's reaction to Maura's words. She'd tried to read him as she would a suspect, to glean whatever information she could out of his body language. But Ryan was a professional, she'd come to realize in the space of a few short minutes. He gave nothing away, merely listened with his head cocked slightly, interest and compassion in his eyes. Jane, who normally distrusted and disliked all medical professionals, really all new acquaintances, couldn't help respecting him.

She couldn't help liking him after he began his own line of probing questions. Couldn't help being grateful for the way he accepted Maura's faulty knowledge of a family history without batting an eye. Couldn't help but view him in a positive light as his own calm demeanor seemed to put Maura more at ease. Jane could tell by the way Maura's upright and perfect posture relaxed as the session continued, as her death grip on Jane's hand lessened, and her face became more open.

But after fifteen minutes of discussion between the two doctors in the room, Jane felt left behind, alone, cut adrift, Maura's hand the only thing tethering her to the ground at all. It was a strange feeling, to be so completely out of touch with a situation. At first, she'd fought it, attempted to remain present, but the medical terms being thrown around had confused her, wrapped her up into a maze of her own thoughts. Dr. Wilde had been too composed to simply begin throwing out potential diagnoses after only a few short minutes, but he and Maura had slipped into a discussion that was more Latin and Greek than English. They could have been speaking Chinese for all Jane knew.

And so, she doesn't feel fully present in the room. She isn't aware of anything except that she can't let go of Maura, can't stand to be separated from the smaller woman. She examines the doctor's hand via her fingertips, counting the bones, feeling both the smallness of the palm in her own, the frailty and fragility represented there, but also the strength, the dexterity of those long fingers, so perfect with a scalpel. She feels as though she is reading Maura's life in her hand, as a blind man reads braille.

As Jane focuses on the comfort of the contact, she realizes that she is giving it more thought than should be warranted, that she is coming to consider such an innocent gesture as something more...intimate. Something almost loving. A gesture that is coming to feel, to her at least, necessary, right, normal. And, it is in that moment that Jane realizes that she has been attempting for the past half an hour to pour as much affection, all of her - all of - all of her _love _into their connection as possible. She has been basically shouting her love, and Jane relaxes as she vocalizes the emotion to herself, to Maura ever since the ME grabbed her hand outside the doors to the hospital. Did Maura realize? Did she know? Jane looked over at the honey blonde, but she was still engaged in discussion with Dr. Wilde. Jane is merely a side note in the blonde's peripheral vision. Jane is not sure if Maura is even aware that the two _are _still holding hands. She is focused on Ryan, leaning forward slightly in her chair, her cheeks a bit flushed, her long hair wavy and cascading down her back. Jane wants nothing more than to lean forward and press her lips to Maura's cheek.

No! Suddenly, she is bolt upright in her chair, and her mind becomes clear and focused and she hears the rushing of the two doctors' words not as a stream somewhere off in the distance, but a torrent of water cascading over her. She is back, listening once again, channeling all her energy on the discussion, hoping neither noticed her absence. She needs to hear this, needs to know what is happening so that afterwards, when she and Maura return to the car, she can understand what has happened, can know how to react, can hide her love for the ME behind friendship and helpfulness. Jane looks once more down at their clasped hands and then quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, lets go and folds her hands in her lap, forcing herself not to rub her scars, but to sit still and silent, attentive.

* * *

Maura falters for a moment, trips over her words. She glances at Jane out of the corner of her eye, but the detective is sitting in her chair nonchalantly, as though she didn't just sever their connection in an abrupt and heart-stopping manner. Maura had noticed Jane's attention wandering, had felt the other woman's sharp brown eyes on her as she and Ryan had discussed her symptoms. She knew Jane wasn't following their discussion, but that was fine. Once they were finished here, Jane would ask questions and Maura would be able to fill her in. It was more that Jane was even there, was sitting beside her close enough for Maura to feel the warmth radiating off the detective. That was enough. It was Jane's presence that was keeping the ME so collected, so cool.

So, now that Jane has let go, removed herself from their contact, Maura stumbles. She'd felt it, hovering around her, something she was not yet ready to name. The feeling of holding Jane's hand, something she'd experienced before. They'd held hands before. Maura was one of the few people with permission to touch one of the most scarred parts of Jane's body. She knew and was extremely grateful for it, because Jane had lovely hands, strong and beautiful. It had become her habit to massage Jane's palms while they were watching a film or after an extremely stressful day. It was normal, when they were alone, for Maura to reach over and still any restlessness in Jane by simply taking the detective's hands in her own. The contact had become comforting for both of them.

But here they were. In public. Jane had held her hand through the lobby of the hospital, during the elevator ride up five floors, as they stood in front of the receptionist and waiting for Ryan to appear. Maura had expected the brunette to let go at some point, had almost resigned herself to the fact. But, then, they'd met Ryan, and Jane had held on throughout the introductions, had trailed along behind Maura down the white hallway, never letting go, had plopped herself down into the chair on Maura's right, remaining in contact the entire time. And Maura had been so grateful for it, had felt so much stronger and safer as she and Ryan exchanged pleasantries, launched into a medical discussion concerning, not a faceless patient, but herself.

Had Jane realized what was happening? Had she noticed the feeling surrounding them? Maura was certain it had just been her. That Jane had been holding on purely for the ME's benefit, had not felt it. It was something almost foreign to the medical examiner. Affection. Gratitude. Love. The love she'd been ignoring, been hiding from Jane, better even than she'd been hiding her headaches from the observant detective. And Maura was terrified that by pulling away so suddenly, Jane had felt it, had received the message Maura was subconsciously sending her way, and had been horrified, had needed to distance herself from the 'us' persona, the 'we' pronoun they had assumed since entering the hospital.

Perhaps not, Maura attempts to reprimand herself silently. She was jumping to conclusions, making assumptions. Guessing. And so, she continues with her statement, avoiding looking at Jane as much as possible, focusing instead on Ryan's nodding face, his understanding expression.

As they finish, Ryan nods decisively once more. "Well, I think you're right, Maura. We'll have to run some tests, take some blood. I can do the neurological exam right away, if you'd like. I think it might be best."

Maura nodded in agreement.

"If you want to just follow me? I believe we have an open exam room right down the hall."

Maura felt Jane jump slightly beside her when Ryan stood and Maura followed suit. She looked over at her ... friend. "You can wait here if you like, Jane. This shouldn't take more than thirty minutes. And then we can go."

Jane is looking at her searchingly. "Do you want me to come?"

"It's just a quick exam and some blood work. I'll be alright." Jane doesn't look convinced. Maura doesn't know how to convince her and Ryan is watching them from the doorway. The blonde wants to reach out and take Jane's hand again, feel Jane's reassuringly strong grasp, but she doesn't. "Thirty minutes," she says instead and follows Ryan out of the room.

Maura doesn't mind needles. She is a doctor after all, and so she hardly even registers the slight pressure of the needle as Ryan, himself takes her blood. A nurse could do it, Maura knows, but she's grateful Ryan has chosen to do it himself. It soothes her not to have to deal with an unfamiliar face. They run through the exam quickly, basically a series of reflex and vision tests. She's already given him a complete and exhaustive list of all of her symptoms and so Ryan knows what to look for in her responses. She is thankful for his professionalism. He really is one of the best. Maura knows what conclusions he can draw as they finish up. She is aware of all of the options, and is familiar with the possibilities he is conjuring up and testing for.

"I think we should run an MRI, Maura," he suggests, as he snaps off his gloves and tosses them into the trash can beside him. "You know I can't give you any answers yet, but it might be helpful in narrowing some things down," he is watching her closely. "I can't tell you anything definitively until after the results come back."

She meets his gaze squarely. "I know the probabilities, Ryan. But, can we perhaps wait on the scans? You'll have to schedule them of course and I don't want to keep Jane waiting any longer."

"It's better if we do it sooner, Maura."

"Yes, thank you," she regrets the iciness in her tone immediately, and tries to soften her body posture.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Ryan. I really do appreciate it. But it's Friday, and you'll have to send that blood work in to the lab over the weekend. Can we wait until that comes back?"

He nods slowly. "Alright."

Maura stands up from the examination table. "I really do appreciate your being so upfront with me, Ryan. You must know that."

"Of course. Anything I can do to help."

"Well, I'll go and collect Jane and then wait for your call."

He stands as well, the awkwardness filling the small room and Maura is annoyed with her own social anxiety. She was fine before, when Jane was beside her and she could merely list off her own symptoms systematically. But now that the neurological exam has been completed and Ryan is beginning to draw some conclusions, Maura can feel herself shutting down. She still doesn't want to know. Some unconscious part of her is screaming for the MRI now, immediately, so she can find an answer for her hypothesis, but the other part, the human, emotional part of her, is unnaturally terrified at what they will find. Maura wants one more weekend, perhaps one last weekend of her normal life. She wants to go and find Jane and then spend the weekend together, watching television and eating Rizzoli family dinner on Sunday. That's all she really wants.

"Maura," Dr. Wilde says softly, "I'll put a rush on it. And I'll call you myself with the results," he has put a hand on her arm, in what is meant to be a comforting manner, but all Maura knows is that it's not Jane's hand resting on her arm, and that it is therefore, wrong.

"Thank you." And then she is out the door, and heading towards his office, Ryan left to trail behind her. Jane jumps up immediately when Maura knocks and sticks her head inside.

"All done?" Jane asks neutrally as she walks towards the blonde and Maura nods.

The two women leave the office quietly, and take the elevator down to the main floor, six inches of space between them. Jane doesn't ask about the tests, doesn't ask for a synopsis, doesn't say anything. Maura knows she isn't pushing for a reason, that the detective feels awkward once more.

So, when they reach the car and it beeps twice to alert them that the doors have been unlocked, Maura doesn't say anything either, merely slides into the passenger side and waits for Jane to shift the car into drive. This time, she doesn't reach out to still the tapping of Jane's fingers on the gear shift, doesn't look over at the detective at all. Maura has, so far, received all of the results which she predicted. She still doesn't have an answer, but that will come with time, only a few short days away.

Jane parks the car in Maura's driveway and steps out. Maura is halfway up her walk before she realizes that the detective hasn't followed her. That Jane is still standing at the car, staring at the sidewalk. Maura turns around and retreats back down the way she's just come. She stands in front of the taller woman, waiting patiently until Jane looks up to meet her gaze.

"He ran a neurological exam and took some of my blood," Maura holds up her arm to show Jane where the needle entered and a bandaid now sits. "We'll have those results by Monday. He wanted to run brain scan, a Magnetic Resonance Imaging test, an MRI, but I asked that we wait."

"Why?" Jane's voice is gravelly after the long drive in silence.

Maura fidgets slightly and then forces herself to still. "We'll know more after the weekend. It gives him time to schedule me in without having to bump someone else, who may need it more, out of the way. And, and I..." she trails off, now unsure how to continue. But Jane is still watching her, so she takes a deep breath, "And I'm not entirely ready to know just yet," she manages a weak smile, one which the detective doesn't return. Maura can feel her smile wilting under Jane's blank gaze. "Jane? I'm very thankful to you for coming with me today."

Jane is still staring at her, but she responds. "Well I didn't really understand any of it."

"But I was grateful you were there," Maura insists. She reaches out to take Jane's hand, and immediately knows it was the wrong move, because Jane is out from between her and the car immediately and now there are several paces between the two.

Maura feels an ache in her chest. Jane is mad. And Maura doesn't know how to fix it. How to make it right.

"You're avoiding it. Still," Jane says quietly.

"I'm sorry," Maura responds, because what Jane has said is true. "Can we go inside? I'll make dinner."

But Jane is shaking her head. "You're avoiding it," she repeats. "And something is wrong with you. Seriously _wrong _with you, Maura."

"Jane," Maura can feel tears in her eyes. Jane is supposed to be supportive, not angry.

"I'm going for a walk," the detective swings around and starts off down the street and Maura is unsure whether she should follow. She watches Jane disappear around the block, still frozen in place. Her head is pounding. It's been a long afternoon. And now Jane has gone.

The doctor doesn't know what to do. She doesn't fully understand why Jane has stalked off, only that the detective is angry with her. And the aching in her head is getting worse. Maura knows she should feel...something, after watching Jane walk away, but all she feels is numb and exhausted. She lets herself into the house, and goes into the living room where she sits down on the couch. She feels numb. This morning, the anxiety about opening up to Jane, feels so long ago. The relief of describing her symptoms to Ryan, of having Jane at her side has disappeared. The anxiety of impending results is merely a whisper at the back of her mind. The confusion about Jane's reaction is swirling in her brain. Maura should feel something, she knows that. She wants to feel that safety again, like when Jane was holding her hand. She wants Jane to be sitting next to her, to be listening as Maura explains the events of the appointment, she wants Jane to hug her and then cavalierly suggest a movie marathon and a glass of wine, she wants to nap with Jane beside her. She wants so many things. She wants it to be alright, to not be a devastating event, for her to love the detective. She wants Jane to love her back. But right now, after this afternoon, all Maura feels is alone, the way she did all those months after Paddy Doyle was shot and after Maura had ruined things with Jane.

Maura feels the headache and exhaustion pulling her under and she hopes that Jane comes back, comes home. To her, Maura's home, but also to _their _home. And her last conscious thought is to wonder at when she started thinking of her home as Jane's and when they, separately, had become _us, _together.


	25. Chapter 25

Two updates? One 24 hour period? Blasphemy. PS - Y'all rock. Love.

* * *

Jane kicked at the rocks in front of her and huffed angrily when the pebbles went skittering off into a bunch of different directions. She hunched her shoulders and kept moving, no destination in mind, simply needing the release the brisk pace afforded her. She was pissed. And so she'd stormed off like a moody teenager, making her even more angry.

She was mad at Maura and Dr. Wilde and her stupid freaking boss who had just let her have the afternoon off like it was no big deal, like her own stupid issues were more important than saving lives and solving crimes. Because they weren't. They shouldn't be. But mostly, Jane was just plain mad.

She was angry that Maura had dragged her into that stupid appointment where she hadn't understood half of what was going on and then had left her sitting there, in front of Dr. Wilde's huge oak desk that was probably meant to be compensating for something, while she, Maura, went and had who knows what kind of tests done. And then Maura had come back and acted like it was fine, like it was nothing. And she hadn't explained, and true, Jane hadn't exactly asked, but still! And she was mad at Maura for even getting into this mess in the first place. Why hadn't the doctor just stayed true to form and gone in and gotten herself checked out right away? Why did she have to be so freaking stubborn an-and idiotic?!

Jane kicked another stone furiously. And why did she care so much about Maura anyway? The blonde had treated her like shit for three months and then never really apologized. She just acted all sick and weak, and so then Jane _had _to take care of her, because Jane was nothing if not a loyal friend. And today, with the hand holding thing. What the hell was that? It didn't mean anything, _couldn't _mean anything. But Jane wanted it to mean something, desperately. And that made her even angrier. That was weakness. That wa-wa-was ridiculous! Holding hands with your best friend wasn't some big, 'Look at me and how much I love you!' gesture. It was just a comfort thing, a friendly thing to do. Dammit!

Jane was breathing heavily, both from the physical exertion and her own pent up frustration. Her jaw sore from being clenched so tightly, her hands were balled up into fists. She was just so freaking mad!

If Maura would have just gone and seen somebody about this earlier! If Jane had just - had just - Jane swore loudly under her breath, looking around quickly, thankful when she didn't see anyone else nearby. Because she wasn't mad at Maura, not really. She was a little bit, but she knew, deep down, that none of this was the blonde's fault. That even Maura, with all her logic and facts, got scared. And she knew that if Maura was afraid, then she, Jane, ought to be terrified. Jane hated showing fear. She usually tried to bury it under sarcasm and humor. But she couldn't hide her fear from Maura. She always felt so-so _naked _when the smaller woman studied her with those big hazel eyes. It was like Maura just ignored all the bullshit the detective hid behind and saw her. God, that sounded corny to Jane, even in her own head. It made her feel like a goofy teenager.

But she had to admit that she was acting like some sort of teenager or child, storming away, all full of angst and shit. Dammit. Her pace was slowing, her breathing evening out, as she thought more deeply about her actions. This wasn't about her. This was about Maura. Maura. Beautiful, stunning, intelligent Maura. Jane's best friend. The woman Jane, what? Liked? Cared for deeply? Loved? Maura. Who was scared and hurting and probably feeling lost, alone. And Jane had run away. Again. "Fuck!" The expletive didn't seem strong enough to express her displeasure with the whole situation, but mostly with herself.

Maura. Goddammit. This was about Maura. Sure, Maura messed up, ignored the inevitable. But she was doing something about it now, and Jane had said she'd be there, had _promised _to be there. And now she was hightailing it out of the danger zone as fast as she could at the first sign of trouble. Why? Jane needed to know. She was digging her nails into her palm, furious with herself. Why? Why? Why? Forcing herself to relax, she took a deep breath and uncurled her fists, automatically starting to rub her scars anxiously. Scars that Hoyt had given her. A serial killer. A freak. But, Jane had won. She'd beaten him, killed him. And he wasn't the only one. Jane, together with Frost and Korsak, had saved dozens of lives, caught serial killers and rapists and kidnappers. Detective Jane Rizzoli was damn good at her job. She was one of the best Boston PD had to offer. She always got her man.

The brunette slowed to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. She was the best. She really was. But this, whatever it was. This _thing _that had taken ahold of her best friend, that sapped her energy and made her dizzy and small-looking. This illness that caused Dr. Maura Isles to act out of fear instead of her normal rationality, whatever it ended up being, wasn't a criminal. It wasn't a bad guy that Jane could lock up and throw into jail. This wasn't a battle that Jane knew how to fight. And that, most of all, was what made her angry, made her terrified. She didn't know how to beat something faceless, nameless, silent. She wasn't prepared for the helplessness she would feel.

Jane loved very few people, but those whom she did, she protected at all costs. She would take a bullet for either of her brothers, for her ma, for Frost. And Maura, more so than anyone she had ever met, made her feel that...that _need _to be protective. Made her answer the phone with, "Whatever you want, I can get it," when Maura was taken by Paddy Doyle. Made her throw protocol completely out the window whenever Maura was in trouble.

Maura was smart. She'd once joked about how you only needed an IQ of 150 to be considered a genius, and Jane knew without asking that Maura's was much higher than that. And Jane knew that Maura was strong and independent. Hell, the woman had practically raised herself. But there was something about the medical examiner, something Jane didn't even understood, that caused Jane's hair to stand on end. Whenever Maura was with her, Jane was ultra-aware of everything around them. She always felt just the slightest bit on edge when she and Maura were out in public, always checking around them, feeling the need to have Maura close, protected, safe. Maura had never mentioned it, but Jane knew the doctor was aware of it. She knew Maura had noticed that Jane always looked into all corners of a room that they entered together, that Jane was almost never more than an arm's length away in a crowded place, that Jane always insisted Maura walk on the inner edge of the sidewalk, that when Jane spent the night, she checked the exterior and interior of the house and locked all the doors behind her before climbing into bed. It wasn't something they had ever discussed. But it was a part of their relationship, nonetheless.

And this thing that Maura had. Well, it wasn't something Jane was prepared to fight. It made Jane feel powerless. And she hated feeling powerless. But more so, it terrified her because she didn't feel capable of protecting the other woman.

Jane had turned around by now and was on her way back towards the ME's house. It wasn't about how she was feeling, Jane knew that. She needed to get her head out of her ass. She'd promised not to leave the doctor again. That first night when Maura was sick and Jane had gone over to check up on her, it was the first thing Jane had promised. And she'd meant. She still meant it. How she was feeling: incompetent, scared, unsure, none of it mattered. This was about Maura.

And even if Jane couldn't fight whatever Maura had, even if she couldn't face it head on, take it down in an interrogation room, she could still be there. She could support the blonde in whatever way Maura needed. Jane Rizzoli could still protect her best friend. Jane picked up the pace again, this time not out of frustration, but out of a desire to reach Maura as quickly as possible. The need to apologize, to grovel, and beg, to do whatever it took, was overwhelming. Jane Rizzoli didn't beg. She didn't. But she'd fucked this one up big time.

That moment earlier, when she realized that just holding hands with Maura was enough to make the detective feel the pit of warmth in her belly, which she was beginning to recognize as love, came back to her. She picture Maura in her mind. The ME's honey blonde curls and innocent expression. Maura never lost that innocence, even after everything she'd seen, everything she'd lived through. And Jane didn't want her to lose that. She wanted Maura to remain that way: always curious, always good. She needed to reassure Maura that she was in. Even if she couldn't explain why, or tell the doctor the way she made Jane feel. Even if she had to hide the depth of her emotion in order to keep their friendship, Jane would do it. She didn't want to ruin anything or make it change.

She wanted Maura; in whatever capacity it might end up being. And she wanted Maura to be looked after, happy, loved, no matter what expression that love took. Jane Rizzoli could do that. She could love Maura, even from afar. And she could be Maura's rock. She could be the good man in a storm, even if it was a storm she'd never prepared for. She could adapt. But first, she had some major apologizing to do. And then, she needed Maura to explain it to her, everything, from the beginning. She needed to understand as much as possible, so that when Maura really needed her, Jane was ready.

* * *

She closed the front door quietly behind herself, slightly annoyed that she'd found it unlocked. Maura: always so trusting. It was getting dark outside. Jane hadn't realized just how long it'd taken her to come to her senses and she'd gone further than she thought. There weren't any lights on, but Jane knew Maura was still here. She crept further into the house, avoiding the shadowy furniture in the hall with a practiced ease that almost made her smile. She knew Maura's house better than her own apartment.

Unsure what to expect, she peeked into the living room and let out a sigh when she saw a still human-shaped form on the sofa. Jane crept closer and waged an internal battle with herself. Finally, she decided sooner rather than later was best, and so she settled herself on the floor next to the end of the couch where Maura's head was. The detective allowed herself the luxury of several moments of uninterrupted time to study the other woman. Although Maura's pale face appeared relaxed, her lips were turned down in a slight frown. Her hands were clasped underneath her head and she was lying on her side, body facing Jane. The detective hated the way Maura's clothes seemed to dwarf her small frame. Maura's big personality and intelligence often made her seem taller than she really was, but in sleep, she looked almost childlike. The urge to take the doctor in her arms was overwhelming. The need to feel Maura against her, safe and sound, was pressing on Jane like an unbearable weight. Her actions from earlier caused her to blush in shame. What had she been thinking? She hadn't. Not really.

Jane reached out and ran a single, long finger gently down Maura's cheek. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind the ME's ear, and when the doctor began to stir, Jane didn't pull away. She waited patiently, not saying anything, allowing the sleeping woman to awaken naturally. It was only when Maura's lashes fluttered against her cheek and her eyes opened slowly did Jane remove her hand.

"Hi," Maura said sleepily.

Jane smiled softly at her. "Hi."

The doctor, still half asleep reached out a delicate hand and cupped Jane's cheek. Jane leaned into the innocent gesture. Neither spoke. Maura suddenly scooted over and patted the couch beside her. Jane hesitated for all of two seconds before taking the invitation and laying her long frame down alongside the ME. It was the first time either of them had initiated cuddling in such an intimate manner. They'd never laid this way on the couch before. Jane lay on her back and Maura automatically curled up next to her, her head on Jane's chest and her hand snaking around the detective's thin waist.

Jane held herself stiff for several seconds until Maura whispered, "Relax." She didn't know what the doctor was thinking, but she wasn't going to complain. Her arms came around the blonde automatically, holding her close. Jane was reassured by Maura's closeness, by the warmth given off by the doctor's body. She felt more confident with the ME so close, more at ease.

The detective needed to speak, but she didn't know how. Maura was all around her, muddling her senses, making her forget how stressful the entire day had been. She could smell the fruity scent of the blonde's shampoo, could feel Maura's warm breath on her neck. Where Maura's fingers were lying on her stomach, Jane felt a burning sensation, as though her nerves were more alive in that aware, as though Maura's fingers were scorching through her t-shirt.

"Maur, I-"

But the ME shushed her, and Jane automatically fell silent. Jane could feel Maura growing heavier next to her. The doctor's breaths were coming slower and more evenly. She was more comfortable squished on that couch than she thought she'd ever been, but she couldn't let Maura just fall asleep. They needed to talk. _Jane _needed to talk. To explain, and apologize.

"I shouldn't have walked away, Maur," she began. The doctor's body tensed slightly when Jane's gravelly voice broke the stillness, an octave lower than usual because she was talking softly and trying to control her emotions. But, when Maura relaxed again, Jane knew it was alright to continue. She had Maura's attention. She cleared her throat.

"I shouldn't have left you. I promised I wouldn't. So, I'm sorry. I just - I freaked out a little bit, okay, a lot. And I didn't know how to handle it all. I was feeling so-so _mad _at you, and I still kind of am. But, I was more angry with myself. I was mad at you because you waited so long to go to the doctor, but I was furious with myself for letting you get away with it when I _knew _there was something going on. I _knew, _Maur, and I didn't say anything about it," Jane was thankful Maura hadn't interrupted yet. "That's what a," she paused, "a best friend does. Friends check up on each other, and I didn't check up on you. You aren't as good of an actress as you think you are," Jane said, attempting to lighten the tension that had settled into the darkening room and in her own chest.

She sighed, "But that's on me. That anger, that's my issue, and I shouldn't have walked away when you needed me. I didn't understand a lot of what went on today. A lot of those words went right over my head," Maura's hand tightened on her hip. "But, I know you can explain that stuff to me. I was too hasty. You know me. Always jumping to conclusions, letting my emotions get the best of me," Jane paused and let the silence fill the space.

She wasn't all that great at big speeches like this. She licked her lips and continued on, "I think the biggest thing though was - " God, this was harder than she'd expected. "The biggest thing, was that I felt afraid," her voice dropped on the last word. "I still am afraid. I'm actually terrified," she let the nervous laugh in her chest come out. "I don't know how to help you, Maur. I've never had to- I'm not the Rizzoli that people turn to when they're hurting this way. That's ma's job. So, I don't know what it is that you need, that you want from me."

"I want you," Maura spoke for the first time, so soft Jane almost missed it.

The detective let that statement settle before she went on, "I want to be here for you. And I'm going to be. I just - I'm going to need you to tell me what to do. How to help you. And I'm not going to freak out again. I can promise you that," she is fierce in her sincerity. She needs Maura to really hear her.

"Thank you for letting me take you today. For letting me be there. It meant a lot. If you don't want me around I'll understand though," Maura's entire body tensed at the words and Jane regretted them immediately. "But, I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to," she hastened to add and was rewarded by feeling Maura sink back into her. "Today was - this afternoon was a-a fluke. I should have stayed, and been here for you. My own shit isn't important. You are what's important, and how you're feeling. I wasn't thinking about you, I was thinking about me, but that isn't going to happen. I'm here for _you_," she reiterated. "And I'm sorry. So, so sorry." That was all she had, all she could say for now. Jane hoped it was enough.

There was a pause. Jane waited, wondering if Maura was about to kick her out. "I accept your apology," Maura said formally and the detective let out a whoosh of air. "But, Jane," Maura tapped her on the chest, "Will you let me explain next time first?" Jane nodded against the doctor's honey blonde curls.

Maura raised her head and her hazel eyes sought out Jane's deep brown ones. Jane was surprised to see that there were tear tracks down the ME's pale cheeks. Maura stared at her. "I'm sorry, too," and Jane jerked back a bit in surprise. What was Maura apologizing for?

"I knew you were upset, but I didn't know what to say, Jane. I didn't know how to start explaining. I am aware that my actions were less than ideal, that I should have gotten into contact with Ryan - Dr. Wilde, earlier. I'm sorry if that was upsetting to you," now it was Maura's turn to take a deep, affirming breath. "And I'm sorry about before, about the whole situation with my- with my sperm donor. I never really did apologize. I treated you horribly when all I really wanted was to be friends again," Maura is no longer meeting Jane's gaze. "I missed you so much, but I didn't know how to tell you. I'm afraid I don't have much practice being best friends with someone else. That isn't an excuse, of course, merely a fact. But I wanted you to know how utterly sorry I am for putting you through that, avoiding your calls, and shutting you out like that."

Jane couldn't help but put her finger under Maura's chin and lift until their eyes met once again. It felt like a move out of one of those ridiculously cheesy movies that her ma always watched, but it felt right. There were bright tears spilling out of Maura's eyes and Jane had never wanted to kiss someone more than she had at the moment. "It's forgotten," she whispered instead, and she swore she could feel her heart melting at the shaky smile she received in return.

Feeling entirely too sappy, and, in order to stop herself from doing something she might quickly regret, Jane sat up suddenly, bring Maura along with her. "Well," she said, a bit too cheerily. "Now that that's settled. I suppose we should see if there are any of Ma's frozen dinners left in your freezer. I'm starving!"

"You can't be starving, Jane. We ate only several hours ago."

Jane grinned at the perfectly 'Maura' response. "Famished then?"

"Hungry," Maura corrected primly.

"Okay, Doc. I'm hungry. Now, how about you feed me, and explain all of that mumbo jumbo medical speak you Dr. Wilde engaged in earlier." Jane knew it wouldn't be a light conversation, but she could at least try and make things a little less stressful. "We have to wait all weekend for the results of that test you said, right? So I would like some answers now please, Dr. Isles," she teased, pleased when Maura smirked a bit. "Or else I'll sic my mother on you during Sunday dinner."

"Your mother is a not a dog, Jane," Maura admonished, following her into the kitchen.

Jane opened the freezer and peered inside. "Maybe not," she mused. "But she certainly can cook," and, with a flourish, the detective pulled out a frozen dish of tortellini. "Voila! We're in luck!" Jane set the food down on the counter and went to pull out a pot in order to heat it up. When she turned back around, Maura was standing next to the counter and she was crying. Jane froze. "Maur?"

"I just -" Maura gaze a very unladylike annoyed sigh. "I don't understand why you just forgive me! I was absolutely horrible to you, and now you're here in my kitchen making dinner."

"Well, I certainly didn't make it. Ma did," Maura just stared at her. Okay. Sarcasm was a no go.

"Hey. Hey," Jane had moved around the island by now and was standing next to the smaller woman. "C'mere," she pulled Maura into a tight hug. "We both said some pretty awful things to each other. But you need me, and I'm here. And whatever this is, whatever ends up happening or scary tests you have to sit through or freaky, weird medical jargon you throw at me, I'll still be here. I shouldn't have run off on you this afternoon. I needed my own little wake up call, okay?" Jane tried to pull away and look at Maura, but the blonde wasn't letting go.

"Honey," Jane soothed, the pet name making Maura seem to cry harder if possible. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I don't know how to fight something like this, Maur," Jane admitted. "You're going to have to help me just as much as I help you. But I promised not to leave you, and I'm not going to."

Jane has never been more sure of anything in her entire life, except for maybe knowing she wanted to be a police officer. But standing in Maura's kitchen, trying to express all the love she has for the beautiful doctor without a word, keeping the demons at bay, Jane knows that this is where she belongs. She'll do whatever she has to to keep Maura safe, even if it means jumping way outside of her normal, tried and true, comfort zone. Jane Rizzoli never backed down from a fight, and she wasn't about to start now.

* * *

What are y'all thinking? Any ideas?


	26. Chapter 26

**AN**: I'm taking a little liberty with the storyline in this one. Let's all pretend the episode "Cuts Like a Knife" happened in Season Two shall we? PS - Y'all are my favorite. Love.

PPS - No editing happened because I was super pumped to put it up. Sorry 'bout it.

* * *

Jane isn't truly present at the meal, but Maura seems to be the only one to notice. Sergeant Korsak is in the middle of a story concerning the previous day's escapades which seems to star Detective Frost. Everyone else has been laughing along, but the lanky brunette sitting next to Maura has yet to crack a smile. The doctor knows that Jane is instead focused on the phones sitting on the table between the two women. One is the detective's, and, true to form, Angela had thrown a fuss when Jane insisted on bringing it to the table.

"It's Sunday, Janie! I won't have that horrible device interrupting dinner!"

"Ma," was all the detective had responded exasperatedly, and the cell phone had remained.

Jane had also plucked Maura's phone out of her purse and set it, too, on the table. Angela hadn't even batted an eye at the presence of that one. Maura was the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Angela would have insisted if anyone brought up her seemingly double standard. Who knew when Dr. Isles would be needed. She was an important woman.

So, the phones sat there, between the two woman. And Jane picked at her lasagna in a very uncharacteristic Jane-like manner, dividing her attention between the cell phones and Maura sitting next to her, while the conversation and laughter flowed around her. She didn't seem at all phased by the activity, and Maura wondered how the woman managed to just tune everything out. It must have been after years and years of practice of growing up in a family that was never still, never quiet. Sometimes, the doctor mused, you had to be able to find your own way of blocking out all the commotion.

Maura knew that she was, at least in part, the cause of Jane's distance. Dr. Wilde had yet to call, and it was weighing on the detective. After their talk on Friday night, Jane had seemed relaxed, almost happy. She and Maura had spent the weekend together. Jane had even insisted they attend a new viking exhibit at the Harvard Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. Maura had dropped the name of the special exhibit several weeks ago, and although she had insisted that Jane didn't have to take her, and that she was even feeling too tired to go, Jane had declared that the two had to get out of the house at some point.

By the time they arrived, Maura had been secretly thrilled Jane had agreed to go, and the two spent several hours wandering through the museum. It was a testament to the strangeness of the situation that Jane had let the ME ramble on the entire time, and had even appeared to be paying attention. She'd especially seemed to like the old weapons part of the tour. Maura had to admit that getting out of the house was wonderful, but the activity left her feeling drained and exhausted.

The outing had been delightful. Maura's favorite part was that Jane didn't let go of her hand once the entire time they were out. She'd taken ahold as soon as they exited the car, and, at first, Maura expected her to pull away any moment. They were in public after all. But, even when the man behind the front desk gave them a certain, disdainful look, the brunette didn't seem to notice. Maura wondered what it meant, that both she _and _Jane seemed to take comfort from the simple contact. She wondered if it was common behavior for friends, and she had to admit to herself that it did not seem to be. The doctor hadn't minded the constant butterflies that seemed to have taken residence in her stomach, and she was becoming quite fond of the warm feeling she retained while holding onto the detective's strong hand. It was almost possessive and definitely protective, the way Jane hadn't even appeared to be conscious her actions, but yet was always aware of where Maura was in relation to herself. Maura spent almost as much time analyzing her companion's actions as reading the descriptions of the artifacts. Neither woman gave voice to what was occurring, and Maura was simply content to let the brunette do whatever made her most comfortable. Maura had no qualms with public displays of affection. She had quite a lot of practice ignoring what others thought of her, and if Jane wanted to hold hands, then Maura wasn't about to say no.

After they'd walked all the way through, Jane steered them toward the exit, knowing without asking that all the walking had tired the doctor. When they stopped to pick up pizza, Maura hadn't even bothered to put up a fight about the negative effects of such a greasy meal, but Jane still ordered half mushroom and half pepperoni. Maura wondered if such a simple action could be considered an act of love. And then she chastised herself for desiring something that would most likely never be. She was seeing things in the situation that she wished for, not that were actually there. That was the problem with dreams.

Wasn't she always telling Jane not to assume or guess anything at a crime scene? Wondering about every single action of the detective's was the same. And it would drive her crazy if she tried to interpret every thing Jane did.

So, Maura tried not to read anything into it when Jane pulled Maura up against her while they sat on the couch and ate their pizza. She'd told herself to forcefully ignore her increased heart rate when Jane started drawing random patterns on her back during the film they watched. And she refused to look at Jane at bedtime until the detective had turned off the light and slid under the covers, at which point Maura didn't move into Jane's waiting embrace until the detective tugged on her elbow silently. And when she fell asleep that night, she tried, but had to admit that she was not successful, to tell herself that the contented smile on her face as she drifted to sleep had nothing to do with the presence of the woman beside her, but merely everything to do with the enjoyable day the two had shared.

And now it was Sunday dinner with the Rizzoli clan, and Maura was extremely aware of the warm body beside her at the table, of the few centimeters separating their thighs. Of the presence of everyone else in the room, taking up space, interrupting the quiet she and Jane had been sharing up until that point. And the doctor was also aware of the fact that Jane didn't recognize any of it. The detective was too focused on the impending call. Her earlier relaxed demeanor had disappeared, leaving behind a very tightly wound brunette.

"By the time Janie and I get there, Frost's gotten the kid backed into a corner. He's really tearing into him, all fierce. Got his game face on." Vince makes a ridiculous impression of the younger detective and everyone around the table laughs. "But the kids just barely staying on his feet, he's so hammered, and suddenly, his face gets all green, and he just let go. I mean, there musta been three meals that came spewing out all over Frost. I thought he was going to pass out!"

Angela patted Barry gently on the arm as he blushed and glared angrily at Korsak.

"Oh man. Jane and I just about died, didn't we?" Korsak looked across the table at his old partner, and when Maura followed his gaze, she saw that Jane wasn't laughing. That she hadn't heard a word of what had been said.

"Jane," Maura softly said and placed a hand on her friend's arm.

The brunette jumped slightly at the touch and looked around, taking in the curious looks of her friends and family. "Oh. Oh yeah! Real funny!" she managed. It was enough for the others because they all turned back to their food.

"I had to shower four times," Frost muttered.

"And you still smelled worse than Jo Friday!" Korsak chuckled, which set everyone off again.

Maura smiled slightly, but kept her focus on the brunette.

"Jane," she muttered quietly, and waited until the other woman met her gaze. She could see a hint of anxiety in the detective's normally calm brown eyes. "It won't ring if you just keep staring at it."

The brunette gave her a small smile and reached up to squeeze Maura's hand quickly. "Sorry," she whispered with an apologetic shrug.

"It's alright," the blonde reassured her. She wanted Ryan to call, too, but it didn't make any sense to obsess over something which was completely out of their control.

She waited until Jane took a bite of her lasagna and she felt, rather than saw, some of the tension leave the brunette's shoulders, then turned back to her own meal.

When Maura's cell phone blared shrilly, Jane jumped next to her and tensed immediately. Maura snatched for it, and saw out of the corner of her eye, Barry and Vince reach automatically for their own phones. Jane, however, didn't move. She'd seen the display, the name Dr. Wilde flashing on the screen.

Angela gave a sigh from across the table. "I just wanted to get through one dinner," she said sadly.

But Maura gave her a reassuring smile. "It's not work, Angela. If you'll just excuse me for a moment." The older woman gave her a happy grin in return and went back to ragging on Frankie for his lack of a girlfriend. Frost and Korsak had let their hand's fall from their phones at the news as well.

Maura made sure she was out of earshot of the kitchen before pressing the 'accept' button and bringing the phone to her ear. She could feel Jane's stare pressing between her shoulder blades as she made her way up the stairs and into her bedroom, leaving the door open behind her as she sank down onto the bed.

"Maura Isles," she said strongly, albeit a bit shakily. It wasn't _Dr. _Maura Isles for this call. No. She was not the doctor in this case. She was the patient.

* * *

When she hung up the phone and turned around, Jane was leaning in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her thin face.

"Tomorrow morning at 7:30. He's willing to get me in before I need to be at work and has scheduled me for an MRI."

The brunette didn't acknowledge her words, merely continued to study the doctor. Maura blushed under the intensity of Jane's scrutiny.

"Jane? Did you hear me? Do you - do you want to go with me? I'm not exactly certain how long it will take. I wouldn't want you to be late." When there was still no response, Maura took a step forward, intending to head back downstairs to her guests.

But, Jane blocked her path.

"If you don't want to, I understand," Maura would understand if Jane couldn't go with her, so it wasn't a lie. However, the doctor knew that the MRI would most likely provide them with an answer, and she was desperately hoping the detective would agree to go. Maura trusted Jane, especially after the detective had given her such an impassioned apology on Friday evening and had accepted Maura's in turn, but the doctor wasn't used to being able to rely on outside support. And it wasn't looking promising, seeing as how Jane had yet to make a sound.

"I should get back downstairs," Maura tried to step around the taller woman, but Jane's hand shot out and grasped ahold of Maura's wrist. And the doctor froze. Maura was trapped in Jane's hooded gaze. She couldn't have moved away, even if she wanted to. She took a rapid breath as Jane stepped forward, bringing their bodies close enough to touch. The detective slid her one of her hand's up Maura's arm, bringing it to rest on Maura's chest, directly above her heart.

"Are you alright?" the sound of Jane's husky voice, deeper than usual, raspier, caused Maura's heart rate to increase. Jane quirked one delicate eyebrow when she felt the change beneath her fingertips, and Maura cursed her autonomic nervous system which was giving her away.

"I -" she licked her lips. "I'm fine, Jane."

They were staring at one another now, and Maura felt sure Jane's eyes were not usually such a deep brown as to be almost black. There was an emotion lurking there which the doctor could not name, could not place. She'd never before seen it on Jane's features before. It caused the other woman to look almost...primal...was the first adjective which came into Maura's mind. Jane had yet to remove her hand, and the skin beneath her touch felt as if it were on fire, which the doctor knew was an impossibility. Jane leaned forward, and Maura's body responded imperceptibly. For a moment, a single, heart-stopping moment when she saw Jane glance down quickly and then back up again, Maura thought Jane was about to kiss her. And the doctor couldn't help her eyes from fluttering closed. Maura could almost feel the detective's lips on her own, and if Jane kissed her in that moment, Maura wasn't sure she would be able to control herself from reacting.

But there was a pressure drop of air instead, and Maura felt the absence immediately. Jane had pulled away. She was standing an acceptable distance away now and was looking at the carpet. She was rubbing the palm of her left anxiously with her right. Maura wanted to step forward, to bridge the gap which the detective had so abruptly put between them, but she couldn't seem to will her legs to move forward.

"Of course I'll take you," Jane said. Maura couldn't, for the world, remember what she was talking about. But the phone call quickly came back to her.

"Okay," was all she could manage shakily. The detective was already half way out the door.

"See you downstairs!"

Maura was left alone, standing in her bedroom, feeling utterly adrift. It was as if the last thirty seconds had lasted years, and now time was rushing past her in order to catch up. Time was relative, Maura knew. A human construct. It felt as if someone had manipulated time and left Maura stranded behind, feeling exhausted and aching from it all.

Jane. Her best friend. Her protector. She had almost kissed Jane. Maura's body had reacted to Jane's presence, had showed signs of arousal. But, it hadn't simply been her body; in her mind, Maura had desired the kiss as well. She'd wanted Jane to break that barrier, to push them past where they were. She'd wanted Jane to desire her. To return her feelings, feelings Maura hadn't believed Jane was capable of. At least not for her.

Maybe it had simply been a fluke. Perhaps she was reading the signs incorrectly. Perhaps it was simply physical arousal as a result of recent stress, and lack of intimacy. Maura wasn't sure when Jane had last been intimate with anyone. The detective always blushed ferociously when Maura brought sex up cavalierly in conversation.

Maura traced the outline of her own lips, slightly swollen as if they had actually been kissed. A sign of arousal. Because of-of Jane.

When the blonde finally calmed enough to go back downstairs, she found Jane and her mother in the kitchen doing dishes. Maura could hear raised voices coming from the living room where the boys were engaged in watching a sporting event. She'd mulled over and over the encounter with Jane, the abrupt nature of it all, and had been unable to draw any definitive conclusions. It had caused her headache to flare up however, and she was feeling decidedly more tired than she had been not twenty minutes before.

Angela waved the doctor away when she approached.

"Sit down, honey," she ordered, pointing at a chair at the island. "Janie and I can handle the dishes for once. She may be a bull in a china shop most of the time, but I promise I won't let her break any of the plates."

Jane glared at her mother behind her back, but gave Maura that half-smirk half-smile she was famous for. The grin which Jane never seemed to give to anyone else, that Maura had noticed seemed reserved especially for her. The grin which, when she was standing up, caused her to feel slightly disoriented, off balance. The grin which Maura would describe as adorable, although never to Jane's face. The grin which Maura could never help but return.

Angela didn't appear to notice anything amiss. "Who was on the phone, honey?" Maura froze. How should she respond? Maura was private person, she usually didn't like others knowing her business, but this was Angela Rizzoli, the woman who lived in her guest house, who had become something of a surrogate mother. Maura wouldn't be able to keep anything secret from Angela for long.

Jane answered first, before Maura could work through her thoughts completely, "A colleague. Right, Maur?"

That was technically true. "Yes. A doctor I went to medical school with."

"Oh how nice! A _male _doctor?" Angela asked, none-to-subtlety, and Maura blushed slightly. She still wasn't used to the older woman's forward approach.

But Jane heaved a dramatic sigh from behind her mother. "Geez, Ma. Not every man on the planet has to be a potential date. Lay off."

Angela swatted Jane with the towel she was holding. "I just want my girls happy. And a _doctor_. Well!"

"You just want grandchildren," Jane muttered under her breath.

Angela hit her again, but chuckled this time. "Of course I do, Janie. And you and Maura are both going to have such beautiful babies," the older woman clasped her hands in front of her, face shining at the thought. "So what if I simply try to," she made a shoving motion in the air, "push the process along."

Maura had gone somewhat red at the thought of babies. Especially with the wording the older woman had used. It almost implied...no. It didn't. It didn't imply anything. Jane seemed oblivious to Maura's internal dilemma, because she merely threw another smirk at the doctor and went back to the dishes.

"Well, you better not hold your breath, Ma. It might be awhile. Besides, I didn't even say that I wanted kids. Their smelly and loud and keep you up at night."

"You don't want children, Jane?" Maura questioned suddenly. They'd discussed their dream weddings before. Maura had gotten Jane to admit to a fantasy Red Sox wedding one night while lying on a mattress in the detective's apartment. But they'd never really talked about kids.

"Well, I mean," Jane rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, and looked over to where her mother was staring daggers at her. "Maybe someday, I guess. I just, I don't know. With my job and everything."

"Your job. Your job!" Angela growled under her breath, and Jane looked apologetic.

"I mean, do you want kids?" she asked Maura, attempting to take some of the heat off of herself.

Maura nodded slowly. "Someday perhaps. Children are a genetic wonder. The whole nature versus nurture debate."

"Well, you would make a great mother, honey," Mrs. Rizzoli said.

"Do you think so?" Maura couldn't help the insecurity from showing through in her voice.

"Maur, your kids would be like prodigies or something," Jane enthused, attempting to reassure her friend, and the detective was grateful. "Freaking geniuses!"

"And adorable, too," Angela added. The older woman sighed suddenly. "I just wish you two would hurry up."

"Good grief, Ma!"

"Well! I'm not getting any younger you know! And neither are you," the matriarch slapped her daughter a third time with the towel and Jane rubbed her arm in fake hurt. Maura giggled when Jane stuck her tongue out at her mother's back. For all her teasing and random moments of silliness, Maura knew that Jane would make an excellent mother someday.

She was roused from her daydreams of little curly haired children with Jane's free smile and rambunctious laugh running around the house, by Jane herself.

"Where'd you go?" Jane questioned quietly, settling next to Maura at the island. With a start, the doctor realized that the dishes were finished and Mrs. Rizzoli had slipped away. "Ma went to kick the guys out. It's getting late, and we've got an early morning tomorrow."

At the thought of the morning, Maura's heart sank. She didn't feel ready. Not in the slightest.

Jane caught her change in expression though. "Hey. It'll be okay. At least we'll get some answers now, right?"

All Maura could do was nod. For her, it would merely be the final proof for her own diagnosis. Tomorrow was not going to be a good day. Jane tugged on the blonde's hands until they were wrapped in her own. She placed a shy kiss on the back of them, then rubbed her thumb soothingly over the spot.

"Okay?"

The sight of Jane gazing so calmly back at her, so surely, made her feel better. "Okay."

"C'mon. Let's say bye to the guys and then it's bedtime."

"You're staying?"Jane had slept in Maura's bed almost every single night for the past three weeks, and when she hadn't it'd been because the two stayed at her apartment, but Maura suddenly needed to be reassured.

"Of course," Jane threw over her shoulder as she pulled the two towards the front door. Angela was handing out leftovers and attempting to shoo her two grown sons and the two other detectives towards the door.

"Let's go! The games over and you all need to get home!" Angela laughed when Frankie pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you for dinner, Angela. It was delicious."

"Of course, Vince. Anytime."

"Thanks for having us, Doc!" Frost called and Maura waved good-naturedly.

"C'mon, out you get." Angela pushed them all out the door, waving and chuckling as the four of them headed down the walk. "Be safe," she yelled after them, shutting the door, and turning to find Jane and Maura standing behind her. "Bunch of goofballs," but she was smiling.

"Alright you two," the woman surveyed them both, hands on her hips. Jane stared her down, but Maura couldn't help straightening her back at the inspection.

"Maura, honey, you look exhausted," she pulled Maura into a quick hug, holding her at arms length afterwards for a good long look. "Jane, you get this woman in bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Jane said, ducking away as Angela tried to pull her into a hug.

"Thank you for dinner, Angela."

"Of course, sweetheart," the matriarch made her way to the back door. "Leftovers are in the freezer. Get some rest. Both of you," she glared threateningly at them. "Don't think I didn't see that yawn during dessert, Jane Rizzoli. Sleep. Now."

They both couldn't help but laugh at her orders.

"Goodnight, Ma!" Jane yelled as the door closed behind her mother. "She's right you know," her voice softened as she too looked Maura up and down. "You do look tired."

"So do you," Maura pointed out.

"Then bed for us!" Jane bowed Maura ahead, locking the doors and flipping off lights as she followed behind. It seemed so normal, Maura mused as she climbed the stairs. So domestic. Jane always locked up and she even checked on Bass before heading for the guest bathroom. Maura would get ready, and she'd climb into bed just as Jane entered the room and turned off the light. They had it down to an art form. It was comfortable. Routine.

* * *

Once the lights were off, and Jane was settled in bed beside her, Maura rolled over so her head was resting on Jane's chest. She let out a sigh when Jane's arms came up, holding her loosely. It wasn't lost on Maura that her head was now in the exact position Jane's hand had been earlier. That she could count Jane's heartbeats and time her breathing perfectly to her detective's. To _the_ detective's, Maura made the correction in her mind. When had she shifted to thinking of Jane as _her's_? That needed to stop.

"Are you nervous?" Jane's voice came suddenly out of the darkness.

"Yes." Honesty was the best policy in her opinion.

"Me, too."

Maura squeezed Jane tightly at the admission.

"Maur?"

Several moments had passed. Maura was almost asleep. "Hmm?"

"Can I hold your hand tomorrow?"

The doctor felt her lachrymal glands react instantaneously to the innocent question. This side of Jane, this shy, exposed side, was one which Maura hardly ever saw. She wondered how many people in the past had been exposed to it. How many people had heard the fear in Jane's voice when her walls came down. The youthfulness expressed there. Maura couldn't help but reach out and find one of Jane's hands in the bedsheets, pull it up to her, and place a gentle kiss directly on the scar Hoyt had left there.

"Of course."

* * *

It was many minutes later, long after Maura felt Jane grow heavy underneath her, felt the other woman's pulse slow and her breathing lengthen, when her own eyelids felt heavy and she could feel herself sinking into the warm body wrapped around her that she managed to whisper it, to set it free for the first time, in a place where the night would swallow it, so in the morning, it would be as though nothing had changed, but really everything would have changed, would be about to change.

"I love you."

* * *

**AN2: Good? Ridiculous? Horrid? Yes? No? Maybe so?**


	27. Chapter 27

AN: Okay. So. I am not a doctor. Allow me to repeat: I am _not _a medical professional. Which means this is only going to be like, eh, 22.7% accurate. Maybe a bit more. I'm trying to research as much as I can as I go along, but bear with me on this, y'all. Thanks for all the reviews. Who knew so many people would get invested in this little ole piece. If you've been around since the beginning, I'm super gratefully. If you're only just now jumping on the bandwagon, glad to have you! Love.

* * *

It was loud. That was the only thing Maura could really focus on, was the noise. She'd been lying prostrate on her back, completely still for the past thirty minutes, with her eyes closed and the noise had become all consuming. It had seemed to grow, buzzing and clunking and humming, louder and louder until it drowned out her very thoughts. Ryan had talked to her for the first fifteen minutes, reassuring her, but she'd quickly tuned him out, and focused instead on the pressure building behind her temples, of the sound, so loud that its vibrations were causing her entire body to hum in response.

When it clicked off, the suddenness of the silence took her by surprise. She blinked slowly, attempting to make out the shapes in the dim lighting.

"We're all done, Maura. Nice job," Ryan's voice was tinny and overly loud coming from the speaker.

Maura didn't bother responding. When the plastic slab she was lying on began to move, pulling her out of the MRI, she took a deep breath. When you're in a MRI, it's best not to move so as to make sure the machine can get as clear of a picture as possible. Maura hadn't realized that she'd almost been holding her breath the entire time, trying to keep herself as still as possible.

The lab tech was there to meet her as she sat up. He gave her a small smile, and she forced herself to summon the courtesy necessary to return it. She just wanted to get back to Jane. Jane, who'd been left sitting in Dr. Wilde's office while Maura and the neurologist headed off to run the test. Who was sitting in a hospital, one of her least favorite places, waiting. If the MRI was conclusive, which even taking into account the poker face Ryan had on, Maura was sure it was, they could be spending quite a bit more time in said hospital that day.

"They'll have them printed in the next couple of minutes," the doctor said, leading the way back to his office. "I thought you might appreciate being there while I read them. I know it usually takes a few hours, but.." he trailed off uncertainly.

Maura nodded. "Yes, thank you. The sooner the better." They rode the elevator up in silence. Maura was fidgeting with her ring finger anxiously. A horrid habit, but one she'd been unable to train herself out of. She'd had to remove all the metal on her person before slipping into the machine, so the motion was not as satisfactory as it normally was.

Dr. Wilde ushered her back into his wood paneled office where Jane was slouched in her seat. Maura gave a sigh of relief when she met Jane's worried gaze. She was still here. Thank goodness.

* * *

Jane jumped up anxiously when Maura and the doctor reentered the office. They'd been gone for almost an hour, and even though Maura had told her to expect it, Jane had still been nervous. She felt out of place here. This wasn't her normal domain, it was more up Maura's alley, and Jane was feeling out of her element. She'd tried to put a brave face on that morning on their way out the door, but stuck by herself in Ryan's stuffy, overly masculine office had her rubbing her hands in frustration. She didn't have a distraction to get herself out of her own thoughts and it had been starting to drive her crazy.

She headed towards the other woman, ignoring Ryan for the moment as he made his way around his desk and took a seat. She looked Maura up and down. She knew it hadn't been anything harmful, nothing invasive, but still, she felt the need to check, to reassure herself. Satisfied that her friend was fine, if looking a little off balance, she reached out a hand, and Maura took it automatically, gratefully.

"Okay?" she asked.

The honey-blonde nodded. "Now we wait."

"Okay," Jane led the two of them over to the chairs and they settled into them.

Jane half expected Dr. Wilde to attempt small talk while they waited, but thankfully, he seemed to know that they would rather sit in silence. When the knock came, he waved the nurse in and took a large manila folder from her.

"Thanks," he said, and the woman exited quickly.

Jane stared at the folder now sitting on his desk as the doctor flipped a switch and a light box illuminated on the wall. She noticed, as if from a distance, that she was rubbing her thumb in never-ending circles on the back of Maura's smooth hand.

Ryan slid the scans smoothly out of their paper sheaf and stuck them up on the board. There was a moment of silence as he stepped back to survey them. Jane knew that he'd already seen them, probably already figured out whatever secrets were held in the lobes of Maura's brain. To her, it looked like waves and scribbles, some of that abstract art she'd never been able to figure out.

Jane felt Maura's sharp intake of breath beside her and she automatically stiffened, but refused to look at the doctor's expressive hazel eyes. She saw Ryan's empathetic look, but chose to ignore it.

Instead, Jane studied the brain in front of her. In a fit of romantic fancy, she appreciated the beauty of the image, the clarity, the contrast between light and dark. She knew that Maura had a beautiful mind, but this seemed almost...intimate, almost as if she was being handed a free pass to examine the soul of the woman sitting next to her, the woman whose hand she held firmly in her own. It made Jane a bit uncomfortable, to be seeing such a naked image, to be peering into the depths of Maura's brain, even if she couldn't understand what it all meant. It was breath-taking.

"Glioma." Maura's voice broke the stillness that seemed to have settled over the three of them. Jane noted that there wasn't a hint of a question in the ME's voice. She was confident.

Ryan looked at her and nodded. "I'm sorry, Maura."

Jane still didn't look at the woman next to her, instead searching the image for whatever it is Maura had seen, whatever put that tone of ice cold certainty in her voice.

"What's -" she cleared her throat, directing her question at the neurologist. "What is that?"

But it was Maura who answered her. "Glioma. A brainstem glioma to be exact. It's a tumor."

Jane's heart sank. She'd known that was a possibility. Maura had prepared her for it. But still, she'd hoped that it was something less intimidating, less frightening. Migraines, or some weird disease that was easily treatable. Easily curable. A tumor. Jane closed her eyes for a moment, to shut out the image of Maura's beautiful brain. But it was burned on the back of her eyelids. She was seeing it in blues and reds and brilliant greens now, not just the black and white of the actual scan, so she blinked her eyes open again.

"So...cancer?" she asked.

"Well," Ryan cleared his throat, glancing at Maura for permission to go on. "Normally, with a tumor we would take a biopsy, a sample, and send it to the lab for testing. We'd want to determine whether it was benign or malignant," he met Jane's blank stare. "That is, whether it was growing, whether it was cancerous. But a glioma in this location is _- difficult _to biopsy. It's wrapped within the brain stem," he turned and started tracing along the scan.

"The brain stem connects the cerebrum to the brain. It's what carries all of the orders from the brain out into the body. Basically, it's a highway of nerves," Jane nodded to show that she understood.

"So, it can be very dangerous to attempt a surgical procedure in the area," Maura cut in. "The patient could end up severely impaired, paralyzed, dead."

Jane couldn't help the shiver which ran down her spine at Maura's words. The blonde sounded suddenly lifeless herself. She'd earned the nickname Queen of the Dead when she'd first started working for Boston PD, and part of it was because of her ability to separate herself from the job, to distance herself from the horrors she was likely to see. Jane had witnessed Maura's descent into the state on many occasions. It was the ME's coping mechanism. Jane understood. But to hear her talk that way about herself, was chilling.

"Well, if you can't cut it out, what do you do?" Jane finally found her voice again.

Ryan was back to studying the films. "I didn't say surgery was impossible."

"It simply has a rather high risk factor," the blonde explained.

"Based on size and the symptoms you described Maura, I'd say it's about a Grade III at this point. Out of a four point scale. Rather slow growing," he looked to the blonde for confirmation and Jane felt, rather then saw her agree.

"Okaaaay," Jane drew out the word. She felt as though she ought to be feeling something, some great panic, fear, anger but instead, she felt as though she was floating, caught in the lull before the storm. Her body felt tense, on edge, ready to act, but there was nothing for her to do, nowhere to go.

"Chemotherapy and radiation are our most likely options. I'll have to get you in touch with an oncologist. Together, we'll all come up with a plan for treatment. If the chemo and radiation were successful at stopping growth, and perhaps reversing it, we might be able to consider surgery."

"So, it could shrink? Could get better?" she hated the way her voice sounded, quiet unsure. She hated that Maura was just sitting there, holding her hand, not speaking.

Dr. Wilde looked uncomfortable. "It could," he hedged.

"But..." she prompted.

"This type of tumor is usually associated with children. It's less common in adults. Treatment tends to be less effective, side effects more severe."

"The long term survival rate for people with brain cancer is less than 10%. Only about 37% of those with brainstem gliomas survive past the first year of treatment."

Jane felt her body constrict at Maura's words. The doctor was the one who dealt in statistics, in numbers, not Jane. The detective usually preferred to go by her gut, to beat the odds, whatever they were, because numbers were restricting, numbers could lie. But those, those were terrifying.

"So, you could die?" Jane turned for the first time to meet Maura's gaze.

"Technically, the odds are not in my favor."

Jane stared at the woman sitting next to her. It was strange how quickly your perception of someone could change. Maura refused to meet her eyes. Dr. Wilde started talking about procedure, growth rate, side effects, treatment, but Jane wasn't listening to him. She was too busy studying the person next to her, her best friend, the woman she'd thought she'd lost and now knew she couldn't possibly live without, the person who had just received life-altering news.

The ME was staring instead at the scans, back straight, feet tucked primly under her chair. Jane wondered how sure she'd been. If she'd known that this, _this, _was the most likely outcome for today. But, no, Maura had seemed relax this morning, calm. How could she retain such an outward façade of collectedness when, in Jane's mind, she was practically staring death in the face. Was she? Is this what death looked like for Maura? No. Jane was getting ahead of herself. The odds might be bad, but that didn't mean you just gave up. Numbers weren't foolproof.

"So, what? You're just going to give in to some stupid statistics? Numbers can lie," she realized she'd spoken aloud when Maura pulled her hand away.

"Yes," Ryan said softly. "They can. And Maura, you're healthy. Strong. There is no reason we cannot fight this."

"Of course," the blonde replied softly, but now she wasn't meeting his gaze either.

Jane could feel her heart rate increasing, could feel herself getting amped up. Why wasn't Maura saying anything. Why wasn't she reacting like a - like a human for God's sakes?!

"Well!" Ryan's voice seemed falsely cheery. "I have a colleague here at Mass Gen, Dr. Lisa Parks. She's very good. I can have her onboard this afternoon. The two of us can go over the films, come up with a game plan. Unless you have someone in mind?"

The detective couldn't tear her eyes away from the silent form next to her. Did she? Did Maura already have someone in mind? Had she planned that far ahead? The brunette almost let go a sigh of relief when the doctor agreed.

"Certainly, Dr. Wilde. I've read several of Dr. Parks' studies. She seems excellent."

"Yes, well, I've worked with her before. I think you'll really like her."

Maura shrugged. "Perhaps. It is not her character that I have to agree with however. Simply her medicine."

Jane noticed that Maura was playing with her ring finger, twisting an invisible band around and around. It was the only outward sign the blonde was displaying that indicated any anxiety on her part. Jane felt like she was about to explode, like if she didn't get out of that room immediately, she was going to go insane. Now free from Maura's hand, she stood and began to pace aimlessly.

"We'll get a handle on this then?" She asked, more for her benefit than anyone else's.

"I suspect Dr. Parks and I will be able to make a recommendation by the end of the day. These things normally take a bit more time, but I believe in this case... Anyway, treatment should be started as early as possible."

Jane wondered if his urgency was because Maura was an old acquaintance or only because of the tumor, and then she wondered how bad that meant it really was. She knew they'd dumbed it down for her, made sure she could understand, but she needed to know it all.

Jane took a somewhat menacing step toward the doctor, pinning him to his spot with her dark eyed gaze. "Brain stem glioma," she said. He nodded. "And chemotherapy or radiation is the way to go?'

"Ye-yes."

"And you absolutely cannot operate?"

"Dr. Parks and I will evaluate carefully of course. I will contact the neurosurgeon on staff as well. But I believe that no, surgery is too dangerous in this case. At least not until we can slow the growth."

"He's correct, Jane," Maura intoned and the detective flinched slightly.

Jane took a step closer to Ryan. She wanted to threaten him. To tell him that is he was keeping anything back, she had a right to know. To tell that she may not understand everything, that she didn't know all the facts, all the figures, but that he ought not to forget just whose brain they were talking about. She wanted to let him know just how important it was that this got fixed, that Maura didn't become just another one of her statistics. She wanted to tell him all that and more, but the ME was sitting behind her, watching her, and she couldn't. So she merely took a step forward. "Thank you," she said, and Ryan looked somewhat surprised.

"I'll do everything I can," he seemed to understand anyway. "Maura," he looked past Jane and she turned, too. "We'll do everything that we can."

Maura stood, signaling the end of the meeting, the appointment, the sentencing, whatever this was. "Of course you will, Dr. Wilde," her professionalism was impeccable.

"Now, if you don't mind, Jane and I have to get to work."

He looked a bit taken aback by their abrupt departure. Normally patients needed a moment to come to terms with the news. To cry. To rage. "I'll be in touch by the end of the day, and if you have any questions -"

"I'll be sure to call," she gave him an apologetic smile as if to make up for the fact that she was not a normal patient.

"I have questions," Jane hufffed quietly.

"I can answer them, Jane. I would really prefer not to be later than we already are. Ryan, if you wouldn't mind, I would appreciate a copy of the scans at your earliest convenience." It wasn't a request; it was an order.

"Maura -" but she'd already turned her back and picked up her purse.

"Are you driving, Jane?"

Of course she was. The detective shared one last look with Dr. Wilde. "Call if you have questions," he said, pressing his card into her hand. She gave him a grateful smile, and followed her friend out the door.

* * *

Jane had questions. She had a shit-ton of them. And if Maura thought she was just going to find out about silly old cancer and waltz away, mask in place, the blonde had another thing coming. Maura couldn't lie, and Jane was about to put that truth to the test.

The blonde had a nasty habit of taking bad news in stride, internalizing it, and trucking on. It was endearing and courageous, and independent. Hell, Jane did it all the time. Neither one really liked talking about all that personal shit. But, the detective wasn't about to let the doctor bury this news for the next seven hours. She wasn't about to let Maura accept a tumor diagnosis and chemotherapy and radiation and whatever the hell else without at least processing it, without making Maura believe that she was on her side. The doctor had someone in her corner, not just any someone, but Detective Jane Rizzoli. Sure, Maura may have understood what the repercussions of this were going to be better than the brunette, but Jane could guess. She'd known enough victims, seen enough of those ridiculous documentaries Maura liked on the history of disease. And she could do research, too. She was going to learn as much as she could about brain stem glioma, and then she was going to insist that Maura kick its ass. There was no other option. None.

The ride to the precinct was silent and strained. Deciding to break the ice, Jane pulled into the parking lot of a café.

"I'm starving, and I need caffeine. You want anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Maura responded.

"Suite yourself," Jane slammed the door and jogged across the parking lot. She ordered a bagel and a coffee to go, staring out the front window the entire time, watching the car. She could just make out Maura's silhouette in the passenger seat. Jane didn't know to go about this.

"I got you a green tea," she said, handing over the hot beverage as she climbed back into the vehicle. "I don't know how you can drink that shit, but here ya go."

"Language," Maura said reflexively, and Jane couldn't help but grin.

"Sorry," she wasn't sorry. Jane chanced a glance at the quiet blonde as she pulled back out into mid-morning traffic. "Tell me, Maur," she asked softly. "Please."

She didn't add that inside she was freaking out, that she had no idea what had just happened, how to take all the information that had just been shoved down her throat. That she needed to understand so that she could put her game face on, get into her fighting stance, so that she could become the rock in the storm, Maura's safe harbor. She needed Maura to tell her how to accept it, to explain exactly what was running through that big, smart, wonderful brain of hers.

Maura took a sip of her tea. Jane noticed that her hands were shaking now.

She began speaking normally, clinically, "Brain stem glioma is a type of malignant tumor which grows normally in children, but is also found in adults. It's side effects include..." The explanation continued. Maura explained that she would most likely have to undergo several rounds of chemotherapy, that there was no telling how her body would react, that she might have to take a medical leave of absence. That until treatment started, they wouldn't know the severity of the tumor, wouldn't be able to understand how quickly it was progressing until several weeks had passed. Jane took it all in, absorbed as much of it as she could. She also noted the way Maura's voice got quieter and quieter the more she spoke, that the softness was tinged with sadness, with fear, as she spoke about success rates. And from her voice cues, more than anything, Jane was able to pinpoint how the ME was feeling, how scared she actually was, that even though she knew the facts, the doctor was hopeful, that she recognized that this was something happening to herself and not a nameless faceless patient from one of her medical journals.

And that fear was what tightened Jane's resolve, caused her to sit up straighter in her seat, to listen intently, to run through a myriad of scenarios, to begin to formulate a plan. Jane often thought with her heart more than her head, she let her emotions take control, but in this instance logic took over.

There were things that she, Jane, could do. Things she could handle that Maura didn't need to be worrying about. She may not be able to take the tumor away, to make Maura healthy, to make it all better, but she could be there. She could get rid of the added stress such a situation caused. She could handle that, and, as Maura outlined for Jane just how difficult the next few days, weeks, months were possibly going to be, the detective made a promise to herself that she would see ME through it all.

Maura was beautiful and smart and, even after everything she'd lived through, Jane still thought of her as innocent. She didn't want the effects of this illness to rob her of that joy for living, for learning. She didn't want to see the sparkle in Maura's hazel eyes when she learned something new or got a joke for the first time fade. Even if this tumor was planning on taking everything from them, even if Maura's body was going to be put to the test, Jane would remain strong, she would remain healthy. And she would do everything in her power to keep that innocence in the woman she cared for, the woman she loved. She couldn't make it all better, but she could damn well try.

Maura broke off her monologue as Jane pulled up in front of the precinct.

"I would appreciate it, Jane, if perhaps we could keep this to ourselves for now."

Jane was quick to agree. "Whatever you want, Maur."

The doctor was watching her closely, but Jane met her gaze squarely, attempting to convey all the support she could muster. "Thank you."

"Maura, I-I just-" Jane broke off, unsure how to continue. She settled for reaching over the console and gathering Maura's hands in hers. She felt her breath hitch in her throat, but forced back the lump gathering there. This was not the place to break down. She'd just finished promising herself to be strong, hadn't she? "You're going to have to keep explaining it to me," she said, pleased when Maura gave her a humorous smile. "But we'll get through this. And I know that you know all the stats, all the numbers, all the outcomes, but I don't want you to tell me those things, okay?" Maura nodded. "And I don't want you to think about those things either," she tightened her grip. "We'll fight this. And the chemo will work, and then Dr. Wilde can remove it, and it will all be like a bad dream. Just some stupid bad dream."

"It doesn't work like that," the ME whispered.

Jane reached out a hand and caught the single tear falling down the blonde's porcelain cheek. "Mind over matter, right, Doc?"

"Studies have shown that a positive outlook can increase chances of a good outcome, yes," Maura retreated into her logical shell, but Jane was happy she was in agreement.

"So we'll be so damn positive that tumor won't know what hit it!"

"Language, Jane," but it wasn't a reprimand.

The detective gave one last squeeze of the doctor's hands and let go. She ran her hand lovingly down Maura's cheek and tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. She wanted to ask how Maura was feeling, if she was sure that she wanted to be at work today, but, knowing the doctor as well as she did, Jane had a feeling the ME needed to lose herself in the job at that moment. So, they'd go into the precinct and pretend everything was fine and dandy, and Ryan would call and they'd get the ball rolling. And tonight, Jane would drive them home and they'd make small talk about their day while a home cooked meal courtesy of Angela Rizzoli would reheat in the oven, and Jane would walk Jo while Maura rested and then they'd go to bed, ignoring the elephant in the room, pretending, for one more night that their lives had just been changed irrevocably, that they weren't both thinking that this would be the last night they'd fall asleep together "cancer free." Yes, that was the plan. Jane could see in her mind's eye how the entire day would go. But tomorrow, tomorrow she had no idea, and that was scary as hell.

She brought herself back to the present, to Maura sitting beside her, scared but stoic. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but they were here now, together, and alive, and there were bad guys to catch and murders to solve.

"Let's go catch killers, Dr. Isles," she joked, and Maura seemed to understand where Jane's mind had just gone.

She seemed to have followed along as Jane led them through the day, finishing back where they'd started, parked outside Boston PD. And she agreed that yes, Jane was right, today was today, and there was a plan, and a job to be done. "Lead the way, Detective."

* * *

AN2: Brain tumor. Hmmm...bring on the hate. But, remember, y'all, Maura's a fighter, and so is her detective. And I love these two just as much you guys do.

Not everything is accurate, but that's the benefit to making up your own story. Hang with me, y'all. Things are about to get fun! Love.

PS - Keep your eyes peeled. Rizzles is going to be making an official entrance. _Soon. _


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Hi, guys. So. I'm baaaack! Wahoo! I am SO terribly sorry for the horribly long wait. Exams. Life. Holidays. "Christmas Homecomings" Excuses, all, but reasonable ones I think. But, I am _super _grateful for all your kind...and not so kind...reviews, and messages of encouragement, and demands, and everything. I hope some of y'all have stuck around and are still reading, because it means a whole heck of a lot, and you cannot know how grateful I am for all of the support this story has garned. 500 reviews! Holy hell.

Anyway, this chapter is long, as a kind of make up for my mini-hiatus. And it has NOT been proofed all that well because it's really late and I just want to post the damn thing already. Review away, however. Thanks for hanging around, and if you're just joining us, "Welcome!" Love.

* * *

Maura tried, and failed to suppress the shiver that made it's way down her spine. She glanced from the medical journal in her hands down to the tubing snaking it's way out of the crook of her arm and up to the drugs being pumped into her body. Temozolomide. Carboplatin. Vincristine. Drugs that she had researched thoroughly before agreeing to allow into her system, because really, when it came down to it, they were poisons. Toxins that were supposed to kill the "bad stuff," as Jane called it, but actually took along quite a lot of helpful "stuff," too. Maura smiled at the thought of the detective, and looked over to where the brunette was trying to pretend she hadn't just been staring at the the ME.

"You're cold," the detective's voice was hoarse from disuse.

They'd been sitting there for two hours, without speaking. At first, Maura had been worried that Jane would attempt to fill the time with small talk, but she should have known better. The detective was feeling out of place in the hospital, uncomfortable. But she'd managed to stifle her desire to bolt and had insisted on accompanying Maura to her first chemotherapy treatment, for which the doctor had been secretly grateful, and relieved. And ever since they'd taken seats, Maura in a large, arm chair-like orange piece of furniture, and Jane in one of the standard issue, hard backed visitors chairs, they'd remained in this state of casual silence. Neither had anything pressing that needed to be said. Jane had gotten most of her questions out during the few appointments Maura had had over the last few days, and in the car on the way to Massachusetts General. There wasn't any extremely pressing case going on at work to mull over either. So now, the only thing left to do was sit quietly and allow the medicine time to do its work.

They were used to spending time together without having to fill the air with mindless chatter. It was one thing Maura lik-loved the most about her friendship with Jane. There was never any awkward pause or unnecessary conversation as could usually be found in social situations. The detective could always tell when the blonde wished to mull something over privately, or when she wanted to talk a problem out allowed. It was one of the many facets of Jane's complex character that the medical examiner so greatly appreciated.

She jerked herself out of her reverie to answer, "Yes." There was no point in lying. Jane, although she may have been pretending to be engrossed in some silly game on her phone, had been watching Maura like a hawk ever since the nurse had inserted the IV. She didn't mind though. It was simply who Jane was.

Jane nodded. This side effect had been a somewhat expected one, but even so, Maura was surprised when Jane pulled a blanket out of the large bag at her side and stood from her seat. "I thought it was better to be prepared," she said, somewhat sheepishly, and Maura couldn't help but give her a dimpled grin. Jane indicated with her hands and the blonde lifted her arms gingerly, trying not to disturb the needle, so Jane could lay the throw gently over her lap. Maura felt unexpected tears prick at her eyes at the tenderness accompanying the action. Sometimes it was challenging to remember that Jane could move so slowly, so cautiously, lovingly. It never failed to amaze the honey blonde at the amount of compassion and care contained in the other woman.

"Thank you," she murmured, as Jane moved away again and resumed her seat. Maura missed the closeness immediately. The lanky woman shrugged it off, but Maura could tell she was pleased.

An hour later, Maura could feel her eyes growing heavy. It was more challenging to stay focused on the small print in a journal than it had been just several days before. Her vision was less clear, and she had found herself squinting on several occasions. There had been a constant flow of patients and nurses and family members in and out of the treatment room. Jane had occupied herself for the past several hours by studying the steady traffic, but Maura had chosen to focus instead on catching up on several journals she'd been putting off. It wasn't that she didn't want to people watch or to socialize. The woman sitting closest to her had given her a wide smile as she got situated, but Maura had studiously avoided the gaze, not desiring to be drawn into a conversation. She was simply feeling slightly uncomfortable in such an exposed location. She was still attempting to come to terms with the process her body was putting her through, and she wasn't exactly sure what proper protocol was in social situations such as the one she and Jane found themselves in. But now, with an hour to go still, she could feel her body tiring quickly. She hadn't believed it would be possible to fall asleep in the chair, during a treatment, but it appeared she had been incorrect. Sighing, the blonde marked her page and set the journal down on her lap, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She could feel Jane's searching gaze on her, so she forced her lips into some semblance of a reassuring smile.

"Tired?" Jane murmured, low enough that it only reached Maura's ears.

The blonde nodded, eyes still shut. Maura heard Jane slide her chair closer and then the detective's rough palm was sliding into her own like it was second nature. Jane lifted Maura's hand into her lap and started rubbing her thumb in soothing circles over the back of it. The doctor could feel her body relaxing at the touch, tension that she hadn't even recognized leaving her as Jane continued her silent ministrations. Her body grew heavier as she let her thoughts drift. She felt so content knowing Jane was there, even as the chemotherapy ran through her body, spreading toxins through her veins, trying to destroy rebellious cells that had taken root. She allowed Jane's presence to soothe away her anxieties for the time being.

She heard Ryan's voice as if from far away, muffled through her sleepy haze, and Jane's mumbled responses. She knew that she should move, open her eyes, engage. That he was here to check on her, but she didn't want to pull herself all the way out of sleep, or disrupt the soothing action Jane was still engaged in.

"How's she doing?"

"Good so far. I think. I don't really know," she felt Jane's shrug, and could picture how Ryan would nod thoughtfully in response.

"Well, the first time can be different for everyone."

A pause.

"And after..." It was a question.

"It affects everyone differently," he said patiently. They'd had this discussion before. "Some hardly notice, some are nauseous immediately. Others don't show any side effects until the next day. It could go either way."

"Well, I'll be there. No matter what," there is a fierce determination underlying Jane's simple statement. It makes Maura's heart rate increase in response.

Dr. Wilde seems to hear it as well because he chuckles slightly. "She's lucky to have you."

The blonde feels Jane's thumb still and then resume its soothing movement. "No," she disagrees, and Maura almost stops breathing, trying to hear the detective's quiet, yet sure, response. "I'm the lucky one."

Another moment of silence while the two other people appear to be watching her. She forces herself to maintain her sleepy stillness. "You'll call, if anything comes up?" Ryan asks. "You have my number?"

"Sure, Doc. Yeah. We'll just have to see how it goes."

"Anything, Detective," he says again.

"It's Jane," she encourages.

"Ryan, then."

They've been civil with one another, both aiming for the same goal. An answer, a magical cure. Anything. Focused on Maura. But the patient knows that they would get along, if they met outside of this situation. They might even like one another...romantically. She has to fight down the jealous feeling that surges inside of her at the thought. Jane isn't hers, she reminds herself. No matter how her feelings may have changed, Jane has never shown any interest in women. And they are best friends. That hasn't changed. Maura doesn't want it to change. Anyway, it pleases her to hear Jane attempting to attain a more relaxed relationship with her neurologist. It's one of Jane's magical talents: putting people at ease.

She brings herself back to the conversation at hand. She's missed the rest of the exchange and Ryan is leaving. "Tell her I stopped by?"

"Of course. Thanks, Do-Ryan."

"Anytime."

"Let me know how it goes in the next few hours. I'll see you both on Monday?"

"We'll be here."

"Alright. Take care, Jane. She isn't the only one who needs to keep her strength up."

"Thanks, Doc." And he's gone. They are alone again.

Maura feels her body pulling her under once more. Rather than expend the energy necessary to remain awake, she allows sleep to take her, Jane by her side.

Jane's soft touch to her cheek woke her not too much later. There was a nurse heading their way. Ann, Maura remembered her name groggily.

"All done," Jane said quietly. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Maura nodded.

"Dr. Wilde stopped by. He said to say hey."

The blonde didn't tell Jane that she'd been mostly alert during their conversation.

"Well, looks like it went well," Ann said briskly. She was a petite woman with short grey hair, who bounced when she walked and spoke faster than the average person. She looked like someone who hadn't stopped moving in her entire sixty years of life. But she had a kind face, and she seemed to have taken a liking to the pair when she was getting Maura set up earlier.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Maura, looking her up and down.

Maura took stock. She felt alright, still a bit chilled, but that was not unexpected. They had no way of knowing how her body would react to the cocktail of drugs now making their way through her system until after the fact. "I'm okay," she told the nurse, but looking at Jane while she said it, making sure to meet the chocolate gaze firmly.

"Well good. And your friend here is taking you home?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jane jumped in quickly.

"Don't you go calling me that again, missy. It makes me sound old," she ordered, wagging a finger playfully in the brunette's direction. Jane smirked back.

"Wouldn't dream of it," the ma'am seemed to be on the tip of the mischievous detective's tongue, but she held it in at one look from the nurse.

Maura smiled at their playful banter. She pulled the blanket off of her lap after Ann had pulled out the IV and made as though to stand. Jane was at her side in an instant, offering a hand up, yet still managing to seem unassuming and out of the way. Maura grasped it firmly, thankfully. She didn't want to succumb to a head rush after sitting still for the past five hours.

"So, I'll be seeing you two on Monday, then?" Ann questioned, watching as Jane held picked up the bag from the floor, still holding onto Maura's hand.

"Oh, I don't know if Jane will be he-"

"We'll both be here," the brunette cut her off smoothly. Maura glanced at her. They hadn't really talked about it yet. Maura was her own boss. She could afford to take the afternoons off three days a week and finish up paperwork from home in the evenings. If a murder was called in, one of the others from the morgue could handle it. But for Jane, it was a different story. She wondered if Jane had cleared it with Cavenaugh yet. "I've got quite a bit of leave built up," she explained for Maura's benefit. "A couple of afternoons, eh," she waved it off.

"Jane," the blonde said, a warning tone evident in her voice. She didn't want to force the detective to miss any more time than she already had.

"It's alright, Maur," Jane reassured her. "Really. We can always work something out, okay?"

The blonde stared at her, trying to determine if Jane was really as unbothered by the thought of missing work as she seemed to be. There was no uncertainty in that brown eyed gaze. "Alright. We'll talk about it at home then."

"Perfect!" Jane turned back to Ann who had been watching the entire conversation with a twinkle in her eye. "Well, until next week then, Ann! It's been a pleasure meeting you," Jane gave a ridiculous half bow.

"Good grief," Ann muttered. "This one's a handful isn't she?" she stage whispered to the doctor, and Maura giggled. Jane smirked.

"She keeps me in line," the detective squeezed Maura's hand firmly.

"I do," Maura affirmed. "Or at least, I attempt to."

Ann patted her on the back understandingly. "Well, good luck with her then. And you. Take care of her," Ann said firmly to Jane. "She's one of the good ones. I can already tell."

"You've got that right," Jane's voice was soft in response. Maura couldn't quite decipher the look in Jane's eye. It was affectionate, but the intensity of Jane's answer made her start.

"Now get out of here," Ann shooed them towards the doorway. "Go home. Get that child some food. She looks like she's about to fall over."

"Yes, boss," Jane answered, escorting Maura gently towards the door. "See you later!"

"Thank you," Maura threw over her shoulder, but Ann had already moved on to the next patient.

"Did it feel weird?" Jane questioned while they made their way to the elevator bank, and pushed the down arrow.

Maura looked thoughtful. "I don't really know. I was surprised to find myself drifting off."

Jane nodded. "That's good though. Rest when you can, right?"

Maura agreed. "Right."

"So," Jane said, "Home? Food?"

"Perhaps something light?" the blonde suggested. "I'm not really sure what to expect and if I do become ill, I'd rather not have to deal with something heavy in my stomach."

"Light...soup? I bet I could convince my mother to whip something up."

"Jane, I don't want your mother having to cook for us all the time. It's not fair."

"Trust me, Maur. Cooking for us, for _you _in particular with your refined taste," Jane sniffed hautily and made air quotes around the word, but bumped her shoulder lightly into the doctor's to show that she was joking, "is the highlight of her day."

Maura couldn't argue with the truth. "Well, alright. But, could we perhaps not tell her..." she trailed off.

The detective picked up her sentence easily. "Not until you're ready. I promised."

"Thank you," the blonde breathed, just as they stepped out into the underground parking garage.

"You still want to tell them on Sunday? At family dinner?"

"Do you think that's a good time?"

Jane shrugged. "As good a time as any. That way the boys and Korsak will be there to deal with ma. But I still think you should tell your parents first."

Maura shook her head forcefully, regretting it immediately when black spots danced in her line of sight. She paused and Jane stopped immediately, waiting patiently for it to clear. "I already explained to you, Jane. I don't want to inform them until we really understand what the situation is. Not until this first round of chemotherapy has been completed."

"Maura," there was exasperation in Jane's tone.

"I don't want to worry them unnecessarily."

"You're their daughter, Maur. It's their job to worry. Besides, it is-well-it _is _serious. I think brain tumor warrants a phone call home."

Maura is touched by Jane's concern. But she is certain that it is better to wait. She cannot deal with her father's detached concern or her mother's flighty attention. It's better not to include them until they absolutely _need _to know. She doesn't want to worry them. They have their own lives to lead.

"Jane," it's a plea. A firm one however, and the detective backs off immediately.

"I still think you should at least call them," she mutters under her breath, opening the car door for the blonde. Once Maura has slid down into the seat, Jane shuts it gently and makes her way to the driver's side, and when she takes her own seat, the subject has been dropped.

"Home it is," the detective injects some cheer into her voice, and Maura appreciates the sentiment. She doesn't know where she'd be without Jane by her side in all this. The brunette really has been taking it all in stride ever since that night when she ran away. Since that point though, she's been Maura's stone or rock or whatever it is. Staying firm. Attending the appointment with Ryan and Dr. Parks. Taking time out of her own schedule to make this first chemo appointment. Asking questions. Maura even noticed an old medical journal of hers tucked under Jane's pillow the night before, and when she'd asked, Jane had pulled it out sheepishly, and explained that she'd been attempting to do her own research as well, trying to find her own answers. Maura had wanted to kiss her in that moment, but instead she'd touched Jane's hand in gratitude and then slipped into bed, rolling as close to the brunette as she'd dared.

She watched Jane as the detective focused her attention on the traffic. There was poison in her body. Rogue cells, mutated beyond normal capacity, wrapped around her brain stem, effectively killing her. She'd just undergone her first chemotherapy treatment. The first of a four week cycle, followed by two weeks of recuperation and then two more cycles. She was aware that the normal reaction was to feel fear, confusion, even anger. And, at the back of her mind, those emotions were there, but overriding them was the knowledge that no matter what came her way, she would have Jane by her side, and hopefully, after Sunday, the rest of the Rizzoli clan as well. She didn't feel fear. Not yet. No, instead she felt the warm blossom of happiness that took up residence inside of her whenever she thought of Jane by her side. She reached over and intertwined her fingers with Jane's. The detective took her eyes off the road momentarily to glance at her and give her a smile. The warmth in her blazed hotter. She should be terrified, but instead, she felt safer than she ever had before.

* * *

When Jane opens her eyes, it's dark in the room. She reaches out to be met by sheets that are still warm, but bare. She sits quickly and then pauses to listen. There. A sound from the bathroom, and a light is shining through under the door. Hurriedly, she pushes herself out of the warmth surrounding her and slips into a sweatshirt. She wants to be upset that Maura didn't wake her up, but instead, she simply feels slightly afraid. They'd made it home fine, had some soup, watched a bit of this ridiculous reality television show which Maura had insisted was for ethnographic research, and then hit the sack. Maura had been exhausted. She usually was after a full day now, and Jane had been all too happy to cuddle up in a comfy bed and sleep. It'd been a good night. No negative side effects.

"Maur?" she taps gently on the door. "Maur, can I come in?" When there's no answer, the brunette turns the knob and pushes gently. She wants to cry at the image in front of her.

Maura is sitting on the tiled floor, resting her back against the bathtub. Her face is pale and her hazel eyes, when she looks up at Jane, are glazed and shiny. She looks horrible, is the first thought that crosses Jane's mind, and the detective immediately feels guilty for thinking it.

"Maur," she breathes softly, and steps forward, grabbing a wash cloth from the counter. She runs some water over it under the tap. "Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," Maura murmurs, clearing her throat. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Jane kneels down, being careful not to startle the blonde. She takes the cloth and runs it gently over Maura's cheeks, then lifts her hair and dabs at her neck, trying to wash away the clammy sweat that has collected on the woman's skin.

"It's okay," Jane soothes, instinctively running a hand along the other woman's arm.

Maura gags a little and throws herself towards the toilet bowl. Jane holds her hair up, murmuring soothing little nothings all the while. She has never really been put in this position. Her mother was always the one up at night with the kids while they were ill. And Jane herself is hardly ever sick. But it seems to come to her naturally. Once the doctor is finished, she sits back against the tub, shaking slightly.

Jane presses a hand to Maura's forehead. She's warm, and shivering now in her silk pajamas. Jane bites her lip in thought. She doesn't want to leave Maura, not even for a minute, but she needs to grab a few things. "I'll be right back," she says, and Maura nods listlessly. Jane hesitates for a single moment and then leans forward and places the lightest of kisses on the doctor's cheek. "Right back," she says again, and then she's rising from the floor and taking off for the kitchen.

She nearly trips over Jo at the bottom of the stairs. "Dammit," she murmurs when she stubs her toe on the corner of the wall, trying to avoid the little dog. "Shit." They were prepared for this eventuality. That the chemo would most likely make Maura physically ill. It's her body's way of reacting to the drugs, it's trying to remove the toxins. She flips on a light switch in the kitchen and scurries around, grabbing whatever she thinks they might need. Gatorade for the electrolytes. Plain water in case Maura won't be able to keep anything down. Saltines. The thermometer. She heads back upstairs, stopping in the bedroom to grab an extra blanket from the closet, and then it's back into the bathroom where Maura has hardly moved.

Jane sets down the tray she's used and then wraps the blanket around the blonde gently, sighing as she lowers herself back to the floor. "Maur," her voice is soft, "I brought some water and some Gatorade. Can you try and drink something for me. Replace some of those fluids."

Maura reaches out shakily and Jane places the colorful drink in her hand. She is pleased when the smaller woman takes several small sips. When Maura grimaces and hands it back, she takes it quickly.

"Do you want to stay here or try and lay down in bed?" she asks, unsure.

"Stay here," Maura mumbles. "Please," she adds.

"Sure. Sure thing."

"You should sleep," the doctor tries to say, but Jane is already shaking her head in the negative.

"No way, doc. I'm staying right here." There is absolutely no way she is leaving Maura in here alone.

"I didn't think puke-duty was in the job description."

Jane is pleasantly surprised by the comment. "Why, Dr. Isles. Was that a joke?"

Maura gives her a small smile. "Maybe."

Jane laughs, but lurches forward when Maura does, the doctor's face going white as a sheet as she retches up everything they'd eaten for dinner and for lunch.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles again when she's finished and Jane is wiping her face with the wet cloth.

"No more apologies," Jane orders. "It's alright. You're okay."

Jane isn't sure how much longer they sit there. She doesn't know how many times Maura leans over the porcelain bowl. It's when she begins to dry heave, tears running down her pale cheeks, that Jane wants to cry, too. She hates it, watching Maura be sick. Seeing the blonde, normally so controlled, so put together, in pain like this and falling apart. Jane wishes she could take the doctor's place, but there is the little voice in her head that just won't shut up, whispering that this is only the beginning. It's most likely going to get worse. That this could happen after every single treatment. That Maura is going to get weaker than she already has. That this could very well become normal. She ignores that voice, wills it away with everything she has.

No one would really call Detective Jane Rizzoli an optimist, but that night, as the hours drag on, and Maura comes unstitched in front of her, Jane pretends that she is. She refuses to listen to her own negative thoughts. She refuses to be overcome by her own exhaustion and fear. Instead, she focuses on the patient, making sure Maura keeps taking sips of the water, replenishing her fluids, trying to keep her hydrated. It may be a losing battle, but Jane doesn't stop trying. She washes the blonde's face free of her tears, pressing light kisses to the top of her sweaty head while Maura leans against her, attempting to snatch some rest. Wrapping her in the blanket, and holding her tight to her own body, trying to transfer as much of her own heat as possible.

It is a long night, but finally, just as the sun is starting to rise, Maura falls asleep in Jane's arms, her head resting against the detective's chest. Jane waits for awhile; her leg falls asleep because of its position, but she doesn't move. She wants to make sure that the doctor is completely out before she attempts to move her. Once Maura's breathing has deepened and evened out, Jane shifts her weight, and then, grunting slightly, she manages to stand, Maura in her arms. The blonde doesn't even move at the change in position. Jane carries her to the bed, and lays her cargo gently down, covering the honey blonde with the comforter.

She is sure the doctor is going to want a shower or a bath as soon as she wakes up, as long as she doesn't get sick again, but for now, it's more important that she sleeps. Jane wants nothing more than to crawl into bed beside her, and close her eyes, but she can't. Not yet.

Instead, she heads back to the bathroom, and cleans up, taking the dishes down to the kitchen, bringing up a giant pan and putting it next to the bed. Something her ma used to always do when she and her brothers were sick. She could hear her mother in her head, _"Just in case."_ Then she scrubbed down the bathroom, making sure it was up to Maura's ridiculous standards of cleanliness, before stripping out of her clothes and hopping into the shower herself.

She lets the hot water cascade down her back, resting her forehead on the wall in front of her. It hadn't been terrible. Not really. But it had been bad. She tried to ignore the picture of Maura in her mind, looking so helpless, and little on the bathroom floor. The way Maura had felt in her arms. Light. Like air. A wisp that might float away at any moment. Instead, she focused on the chores she needed to get done that day. Thankfully, she had the entire weekend off. Thank goodness. She wanted to be home with Maura as much as possible.

Which made her think of work. Jane was sure that she if she wanted to, she could take an entire month off and her boss would barely bat an eye, but she didn't want to do that. Maura had decided that she wanted to attempt to continue working around the treatments and side effects, even if it meant sending one of her underlings out to crime scenes instead of going out herself. Jane had thought to argue against it at first, wanting Maura to save her strength, but she knew that the medical examiner relied on her job as a distraction just as much as Jane did, that the blonde was just as dedicated to her work. She had managed to make Maura promise to take time off if she began to feel at all overwhelmed or too run down.

But what was Jane going to do? She couldn't tell Cavenaugh why she needed all that time off without telling him about Maura, and the doctor hadn't wanted anyone to know yet. She was unsure. Scared. Whatever. Jane got it. She understood. But, it still put her in a bit of a tight spot. She'd just have to work it out. If Cavenaugh didn't like it, well, screw him. Maura was more important. She was the _most _important thing...person in Jane's life. The detective _loved _her for God's sake. Not that Maura needed to know that. Not that Jane loved her in a more than a best friend kind of way. No. She didn't need to know. But it didn't make it un-true. Jane groaned under the spray. This was all so freaking annoying and confusing and horrible. She just wanted Maura to be ok, to get better, to be her crazy google mouth self again.

Jane realizes with a start that she's been in the shower so long the water has begun to turn cold. Soaping herself quickly, she washes and hops out, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Today was a home day. A day to be comfortable and relaxed, and to hopefully get Maura to eat something, to replace everything she'd lost that night. Jane peaks into the bedroom, giving a grateful sigh when she ses that the doctor is still sleeping soundly, and then she heads downstairs. She might as well get some work done while she waits for Maura to wake up. No use going to sleep now. As tired as she is, there's no way she's going to be able to shut her brain off.

* * *

Jane nearly has a heart attack when she enters the kitchen to find another person already in residence.

"Jesus, Ma!" she nearly shouts, forgetting the sleeping figure upstairs for a moment. "What are you doing here?" She questions, softer now.

"I came over to make you two breakfast," her mother says, like it's the most natural thing in the world for a woman to make her grown children eggs and bacon on a Saturday morning.

"Should I be in the living room watching cartoons?" Jane quips sarcastically, running her fingers through her wet hair. Maura is upstairs, asleep, after having been up half the night, vomiting her guts out, and now her mother is here, in the kitchen, as if nothing is wrong, as if everything hasn't changed, been turned on its head.

Her mother rolls her eyes at her oldest child, and turns back to the stove.

Jane wonders if Angela is aware just how often Jane has been spending the night here of late. She wonders if the Rizzoli matriarch is at all curious, because it is unlike her mother to simply accept a sleepover with no questions. It used to be that one of the two only spent the night after a traumatic event at work, or when they were having guy troubles...again. It's odd. And Jane finds that she is actually a little put out by her mother's lack of curiosity.

Jane takes a seat at the island and her mother sets a cup of Maura's expensive coffee down in front of her. "It smells great, ma." And it does.

"Is Maura up?" her mother asks.

Jane blanches. Maura doesn't want anyone to know. "She was-I think- we were up late last night. Working on a case," she is quick to point out. "So I'm not sure if she'll be up for breakfast."

"Maura is sleeping in?"

And Jane wants to curse at her horrible lie. The good doctor never, _never, _sleeps in. Of course her mother would find _that _odd. "I think she's feeling a bit...run down." That wasn't exactly a lie.

"Oh no! Can I do anything?"

Jane shook her head. "She might just need to sleep it off, ma. You know. Rest up."

"Sure, sure." Thankfully, her mother is nodding in agreement. "Well, I'll make her a plate and she can heat it up later if she wants to."

Jane knows that there is absolutely no way in hell Maura will be eating reheated scrambled eggs and old bacon when she finally wakes up, but she agrees anyway. Sometimes it's easier to just smile and nod.

"You look tired, Janie," Angela observes as she takes a spot next to her daughter, eggs in hand.

"Like I said, late night. Mmm," Jane groans in satisfaction. "This is delicious, ma. Thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," her mother beams at the compliment. The easiest way to her mother's heart is to compliment her cooking. Most of them are well-deserved.

They eat in silence after that, uncharacteristic for her mother, but Jane is grateful. She lets her thoughts drift back to the issue weighing down on her. Well, multiple issues actually.

"Ma," she says suddenly, and her mother looks up at her. "Did you love Pop?" she regrets the question immediately and can feel her cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

Her mother, however, looks thoughtful. "You mean before he turned into a good-for-nothing who divorced me and then tried to get me to say I didn't want my children? Like I'd just disown my own kids."

"Ma," Jane groans.

"Yes," her mother cuts her off. "I loved you father. I loved him very much."

This is somewhat surprising. "But it didn't work out."

"No. But sometimes these things don't, Janie. Why? What's this about?"

"Nothing," the detective mutters into her plate. "Nothing."

She can feel her mother glaring daggers into the back of her neck. "Is this about a man?"

"No, ma."

"A new suitor?"

"Suitor? Jesus. What is this? The 1800s? No, ma," she is emphatic.

There is a pause, and then her mother speaks again, softer this time, more understanding, "Sometimes," she pauses as if searching for the correct wording, "sometimes love is unexpected, even unwanted."

Jane chances a look up, but her mother is staring off into space.

"Sometimes we fall in love for all the wrong reasons, and other times it comes at the incorrect time. But if we are in love, Janie," and here she turns her gaze back on her daughter, "it's important that we acknowledge it. People fall out of love every single day. It's painful, and disrupting. But they also fall _into _love. And it's important to recognize those moments. To know when it's happening. To accept it, even if it is new, or-or scary. Because falling in love can be wonderful. Joyous. The best thing you ever do in your life." The way her mother is looking at her is beginning to make her nervous. "I just want you to be happy, Janie," she has shifted gears, taking Jane by surprise again. "So, if you love someone, you should tell them. Because it's a good thing. Don't be afraid to take some risks." her mother stands and heads for the sink. "I know you feel all tough with that gun in your hand, but you're just as brave and strong without it." She put the dishes down and began to wash them by hand, ignoring the dishwasher. Jane sat as if frozen in place. "You've seemed happy lately. Ever since you and Maura made up. It's good. It's alright to be happy."

Jane clears her throat. "I-I know that."

"Good," Angela says simply, having finished the two plates and forks. "Well, tell Maura I said hello. And I'll see you both tomorrow night?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

She walks around the island and presses a kiss to Jane's temple. One which the detective doesn't even try to avoid. She is still trying to interpret everything her mother has just said. Usually Angela simply throws men at her; they never really talk about love.

"Janie?"

"Hmm?"

"I want you to be happy most of all, because I love you and you're my daughter. And you've seemed happy lately. So, whatever or whoever has made you feel this way, tell them. Don't be afraid. You understand?"

She was trying to. "Yes."

"Good. Because I'm still waiting on those grandchildren," she grouses, heading towards the door, and Jane can't help but smile at the not-so-subtle, and oft-used hint.

"Thanks, ma!" she says softly as the door leading outside and to the guest house closes behind her mother. For what, she isn't so sure, except that her mother has left her with more to mull over. It's all so confusing. And she almost wonders if her mother knows that it is actually Maura, the beautiful, complex, stunning woman upstairs that she is falling in love with. But she dismisses that thought quickly. She isn't sure how Angela would react to finding out that her only daughter was attracted to another woman. Not just attracted to, she amended in her head. It's getting harder for her to distract herself from thoughts of telling Maura, of being with her in that way, of kissing her, of referring to the blonde as her - as her - dammit - her girlfriend. Because every time she sees the blonde, every time Maura does something silly or crazy or intelligent or brave, Jane finds the need to reach out and take the medical examiner into her arms absolutely overwhelming. It is almost tiring how hard it is getting to continue fighting with herself over this stupid issue. But Maura can't know. Dammit.

Not after the diagnosis. Not after last night, when she was completely exposed in front of the detective. Not when Jane feels as if it would be taking advantage of a horrible situation to profess her love now. Not when Maura is engaged in some crazy internal struggle with her own body. Not now. Not ever. Jesus. Not ever. They are best friends. Nothing more. Not even her mother can change her mind this time.

* * *

AN2: So, what'd y'all think?


	29. Chapter 29

**Hey, y'all, so I can't remember if I've really put a season on this story. Spring, Winter, etc. So, I'm giving it one now. If it turns out I did, and I'm just being a forgetful crazy person, let me know... Enjoy! Happy new year! Love. **

* * *

Maura stood by the window, one hand wrapped securely around her mug handle and the other resting lightly against the sill. She could feel the slight chill coming through the pane. She sighed. The leaves would be changing soon. As the amount of sunlight during the day diminished, photosynthesis would slow, and the trees would live off of the extra energy they'd stored for the winter months. The green chlorophyll would begin to disappear, allowing reds and oranges to pop where before they had been out-powered by the green. She loved fall. It was a beautiful transformation.

So many people decried it as the most drab of seasons. The time when everything died and the cold of the dark months came creeping in. Maura disagreed. Autumn was the time for the flora and fauna to take stock, prepare for the rejuvenating rest which winter provided. She adored living in Boston because it provided such a wonderful setting for all of the four basic seasons.

Fall could be considered a time for new beginnings, just as much as spring could. Students returned to school in the fall, filling the hallways with shouts and enthusiasm, and filling their brains with knowledge. She'd looked forward to the new school year every September. Not because of seeing old friends again, but because of the books, the opportunities to learn more, to attempt to quench her insatiable need for information. And now, the leaves changing signaled the start of the holiday season: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the new year. For so many years, Maura had celebrated such holidays alone, or surrounded by the high class functions her parents funded. But ever since Jane had taken her under her wing, had accepted Maura into her family, the holidays had been a much louder, boisterous, lovely affair. She loved it. Autumn was truly her favorite season.

She stared out at the lawn and trees contemplatively. Jane would be getting up soon. The brunette would wake to an empty bed, however. Maura had been awake since five am. Early enough to watch the sun rise over the rooftops. Early enough to hear the birds calling the morning in. She shifted her weight and took a sip of the mint tea. It was so peaceful to watch the sunrise, the sky shifting from purple to indigo, pinks and yellows precluding the clear blue which signaled a beautiful day.

Maura ignored the twinging sensation behind her eyes, a clear reminder that all was not right in her world. She didn't want to acknowledge it. She would rather pretend the last week had been a dream. The last month actually or several months if it came down to that. She wanted to go back to before her diagnosis, before the warehouse and Paddy Doyle and almost losing her friendship with Jane forever. But it was foolish to desire something that could never be. She gave herself a mental shake.

Besides, some good had come out of the entire situation. She and Jane were best friends once more. Closer than they had been before in many ways. More open. More trusting of one another. Their relationship had shifted a bit with the diagnosis, but so far, all seemed to be holding steady. Strong. Maura was grateful.

It was Sunday. Rizzoli family Sunday. At some point in the early afternoon, Angela Rizzoli would burst through the back door, likely with some form of noodles in hand and a tremendously long list of chores to complete before the house filled up at four o'clock. Maura would assist the matriarch in the kitchen while Jane tried to avoid household chores of any kind. Then Vince would arrive, swiftly followed by Frost and Frankie, and finally Tommy. It would be a full house. She could almost picture how the entire night would go. She smiled at the thought. It was wonderful to know that her home, once so quiet and still, could be transformed by the Rizzoli clan into a place of warmth and light and love.

But tonight also meant - Maura shivered - tonight was the night. She and Jane had discussed it at length the night before, after spending all day on the couch. Maura had woken on Saturday morning still slightly nauseous and exhausted, but after her shower, Jane had plopped her down on the couch and babied her with soup and saltines and movies. She'd even let Maura talk her into a new French film the doctor had been wanting to see. And it had been the blonde who'd fallen asleep halfway through, her eyes growing heavy with fatigue as her head drifted down to rest on Jane's shoulder, the detective shifting so Maura could lay more comfortably, spread out along on the couch. The detective had studiously avoided asking if Maura was alright more than was necessary. She hadn't brought up the night before at all other than to check the doctor's temperature and insist on constant fluid intake. Maura had never been more grateful for the brunette.

The side effects of the chemotherapy treatment had not been unexpected, but they had certainly been unpleasant, and she was not looking forward to undergoing such incapacitating chills and vomiting during every cycle. She was aware that it would most likely get worse as her body became weaker throughout its fight. No, she certainly wasn't looking forward to it. It had been somewhat embarrassing to lose control in front of Jane, but when the brunette didn't balk at the patient, when she hardly batted an eye, Maura stopped worrying about it. She'd allowed herself to relax under Jane's care, well, at least as much as she was able to. The medical examiner faintly remembered finally falling asleep, her body worn down at last, early in the morning, but she had no memory of Jane putting her to bed.

It had been somewhat offsetting to awaken, not on the tiled bathroom floor as she'd expected, but wrapped in her own soft sheets. Yet it had also been luxuriously wonderful to have Jane there taking care of her. The detective had been surprisingly gentle with her, quiet all day once Maura was up, helpful, in a silent, unassuming way. She loved Jane for it. That the brunette was so willing to spend her day off taking care of some kind of invalid. That she got to witness the care and concern and kindness that the harsh woman usually tried so hard to mask. She loved Jane for it, but she also recognized the twisting sensation within her that signified anger at the memory. It was not anger at Jane, certainly not, but at herself. First that she required care at all. She had no desire for Jane to be forced into the nursemaid role. Maura had spent her entire life becoming independent, relying only on herself. She didn't want to admit this weakness, not even to Jane, but it was difficult to ignore. Maura had realized throughout the last week, while meeting with Ryan and Dr. Parks, while undergoing the first treatment and spending more hours in the hospital than she had since...well, since her mother had been hit by that car and Paddy Doyle had been shot, when she noticed that Jane's trips to the morgue had become quite a bit more frequent, that the detective was checking up on her in her own way by taking her to lunch every day in order to ensure that she ate. Perhaps it was when she realized that Jane would ask if they could go to bed early as soon as she noticed Maura's energy level beginning to drag in the evenings. Perhaps it had been Friday night, hunched over her own porcelain toilet bowl. At some point in the past week, she'd come to terms with the fact that she needed Jane in her life. That she relied on the fiery, spirited, caring woman in more ways than one. That Jane, without even seeming to notice, made Maura's life easier, took away some of her stress, her fear, simply by being nearby. Maura realized that, while she abhorred playing the role of patient, there was no one she would rather have by her side than Jane Rizzoli.

It was a sobering thought. A delightful one, in that Jane had made this entire process easier on Maura simply by giving her a shoulder to lean. But also a terrifying one, because if she were to lose Jane, lose her rock, lose the woman she had found herself falling in love with day by day, she herself, would most likely be lost. She realized that her lips had tightened at the thought so she forced herself to relax, taking several deep, calming breaths. What would come would come. There was no use becoming stressed about it yet. So far, all had gone surprisingly well. She could only hope it would continue to do so. Jane was still here. The detective was holding steady. Maura simply had to have faith.

The scientific woman had read the studies claiming that a positive attitude often correlated with a positive recovery, with an easier process. She was determined to do everything in her power to fight the abnormal cell growth within her body, even if the numbers were daunting. But, like Jane said, numbers were, in reality, merely markings on a page. Maura lived her life by numbers, by certain rules, by data, but Jane, Jane wasn't like that, and the doctor couldn't help but allow herself to fall in love with the brunette's strength, with her seemingly unflagging optimism when close to the doctor.

The honey blonde heard the quiet whispering of Jane's socks over floor in the kitchen. She hadn't even been aware of the detective waking up and coming downstairs. Usually, Jane made quite a lot of noise, but this morning, she'd been unnaturally quiet. Maura smiled and took another sip of the now lukewarm tea. She rubbed at her temple frustratedly.

She wished the headache would leave her, at least for several hours, so she could think in peace. On Friday night, it had almost felt as though her head were splitting in two, like her skull had ruptured and her brain was being separated by a cut down the corpus callosum. The pain had made the vomiting that much worse. And she wanted to be clear in the head for the evening, when she finally told the Rizzoli clan, including Vince and Barry about the glioma. She wasn't quite sure what to expect, although Jane had tried to guess each of her family member's reactions. Maura didn't know if she would be able to handle any large outbursts. Thankfully, Jane had promised to act as a human shield if need be. Maura had questioned if that would really be necessary, but the serious brunette, her brown eyes leaving no hint of laughter, had assured the doctor that it could very well be. At least when it came to her family.

For a moment, the ME felt a stabbing pain of guilt that she was not informing her own parents first. She and Constance had been attempting to work on their relationship, especially after the accident. But thirty years of keeping her problems to herself, of working through them, of running her own life and leaving her parents' to theirs, made it difficult to reach out to them now. She shook her head in agitation. She would tell them. Of course, she must. But not yet. The Rizzolis first.

"Thinking about tonight?" Jane's raspy voice was soft as it broke the still morning air.

Maura didn't turn from her position at the window, "Yes."

"It'll be alright, Maur. I'll be there. I promise."

"I know," and she did. They stood in silence for a moment longer. Jane hadn't fully entered the room, and, even without turning, Maura knew that she would be lounging against the door frame, coffee cup in hand, her old BPD sweats hanging from her thin waist. She could feel the detective's searching eyes on her, taking in her appearance, her pajamas, the stance she had assumed, seemingly relaxed, still with a straight back, but with her head slightly tilted to avoid the direct sunlight. She knew that Jane would see the way she held herself stiffly, still feeling the effects of the chemo slightly. She knew that Jane would notice her weakness, but that the detective would not comment on it, merely store the information away for later. She loved her for that. For their unspoken understanding.

As Maura gazed out the window again, watching as the leaves danced in the light breeze, she contemplated, not for the first time, telling Jane how she felt. Laying her feelings bare on the counter, or table, or whatever it was. She had seen the way Jane watched her, the way the detective automatically repositioned her body whenever Maura entered a room. But she wasn't sure if it meant that Jane, too, was experiencing a heightened level of feeling, of emotional connection. She couldn't be 100% sure, and she had no desire to risk it.

Jane was the type of woman who was uncomfortable even discussing sexual intercourse in the hypothetical. She avoided emotional conversations with a stubbornness that was impressive. Maura didn't want to risk pushing her away, especially not now. So, she didn't turn, she didn't look into the fierce brown eyes awaiting her, she didn't bother turning to try and interpret Jane's body language, usually quite easy to read, but always more challenging when the doctor tried to understand Jane's reaction to her. Instead, she merely studied the trees, and waited for Jane to break the silence.

However, when it came, it was not what she was expecting.

* * *

Jane studied Maura from behind. The doctor had gone back to examining the trees and lawn outside. She looked gorgeous in the still pale early morning sunshine. Her hair was swept up in a quick pony tail, and Jane had to physically resist the urge to cross the room and wrap her arms around the blonde's tiny frame, to hold her close, to press a kiss to the exposed skin right there at the nape of her neck. Her hand was shaking because she was holding her mug so tightly, so she took a sip, to steady her nerves, and then set the cup down on the side table.

Maura looked small, framed in the window. Tiny. Not frail, but as though she might easily be swept away, carried off by some invisible wind. Jane wanted to reach forward, take her into her embrace, keep her from disappearing. It had only been a week. A single treatment, and already she was waking in the night from dreams where Maura was gone, was disappearing and Jane was powerless to stop it. She didn't want those dreams to become a reality. She wanted to feel Maura, actually _feel _her. To remind herself that she was awake, and the doctor was fine now. That Friday night was in the past and yesterday had gone well, and now it was Sunday. She wanted to kiss the blonde so badly it felt as if her entire body was on fire with the desire of it.

She opened her mouth to break the silence, to ease her own need, to stop herself from doing something stupid, potentially damaging. She meant to say something witty, something sarcastic, anything really, a comment on the weather, but instead, "You're my best friend."

Maura cocked her head to the side but didn't look around. "What?"

Jane wanted to hit herself. But before she could control it, "You're my best friend." It came out halting and unsure, almost questioning.

Maura tensed in her place at the window. "Jane," so soft, she almost missed it.

"You're my best friend, Maur. And I would do anything for you. I would protect you from anything. I would do whatever you asked me to." Jane paused to take a breath, not quite knowing how to stop or even what she is saying. "You're my best friend, and I don't want to ruin it."

"Ruin what?" Maura pivoted now, finally meeting Jane's pleading gaze. She took a step forward at the force of the stare, and reached a hand out, "Jane?"

But the brunette shook her head and assumed her fight or flight position, on her toes, ready to bolt at a moment's notice, to launch into action. She wouldn't be able to stand it if the blonde came any closer. The doctor's unlined face, open, searching, honest, was there, right in front of her, and Jane could hardly bare to meet that hazel gaze. She had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to kick herself.

"I can't. Maura, I jus-just. Please."

"Jan-"

"Please, please. I can't," she was almost begging now, but she still didn't quite understand the situation. Her body was no longer under her control. Her mouth no longer connected to her mind. Maura glanced down and Jane realized she was rubbing her left palm with her right hand in an increasingly agitated pattern. She forced her hands to still.

"Please, you're my best friend," she looked at the doctor with pleading eyes.

Maura still looked confused, but she took another slow step forward, hesitant, wary of startling the other woman. A light was dawning in her eyes, and Jane was thankful at the familiar look. It meant that Maura was beginning to understand, was piecing the puzzle together. Well, at least that made one of them. The doctor set her mug down, and froze next to the couch.

"Ruin what, Jane?" she asked again, and her calm voice soothed Jane's racing heartbeat.

Jane stepped forward this time, and then another step, and another. Maura watched her come, expressionlessly. When she was close enough, Jane reached forward, nearly sighing at relief when she felt Maura's warm skin against her own. Hand in hand. Relieved that it couldn't possibly be a dream, and suddenly terrified that it meant she was awake. This was actually happening. She rubbed her thumb over Maura's knuckles.

"My mother said-gah-taking advice from my mother," she trailed off, unsure what it was she was meant to be saying, if anything at all.

Maura merely watched her. Jane wasn't sure if the doctor was even breathing.

"My mother said, that is, well, I - You're my best friend."

"Yes, we covered that," and the doctor's attempt at humor allowed Jane a slight grin.

"Yes. We did." Jane stopped. "But I don't want to ruin it."

"Ruin what?" And there was a hint of exasperation in Maura's tone, thinly veiling what Jane could only identify as possible excitement.

The detective looked up again, staring into Maura's green eyes. Usually they were a light hazel, but this morning, they looked almost emerald, dark, deep, searching. A week ago Maura was diagnosed with a brain tumor. A life altering event. A life changing event. A life ruining event. Jane was frozen, indecisive, unsure.

"You won't ruin it, Jay," and it was the nickname more than anything. A nickname Maura had only used once or twice when she was in a hurry, when she was feeling especially exasperated with the brunette. A nickname that rolled off her tongue lightly now, reassuringly.

Jane blinked once. She took a deep breath. She gave Maura time to pull away as she took a step, a second, a third, bringing her directly into the medical examiner's personal space. She looked down, there was only an inch separating them now. She wondered briefly if Maura could hear her heart pounding.

"You're my best friend," she barely had to whisper.

"Yes."

"I don't want to ruin it."

"Ja-" but she cut the other woman off. She leaned down, bringing her free hand up to cup the doctor's soft cheek, pressing forward until her lips touched Maura's, until she had crossed the invisible boundary that separated them, until she could feel the blonde. It was gentle, soft, questioning.

And Maura did not immediately respond. So Jane pulled away, trying to quell the sudden swooping sensation in her stomach.

"Shit," she swore, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Maur, pleas-"

"Again," the command was quiet, yet firm.

Jane stared at the woman, her hand still resting on Maura's cheek, now flushed.

"Again."

Jane decided it was better simply to obey, so she bent her head and placed her mouth back on Maura's. This time, the smaller woman responded, standing up on tiptoe, and wrapping her arms around Jane's neck as though they'd assumed this position a million times. Jane parted her lips slightly and the response of Maura's tongue was immediate. The detective held in a gasp as the taste of Maura filled her. It was intoxicating. Jane shifted so the two were pressed tightly together, not a hairsbreadth of space between them. She wanted to moan at the feeling of Maura against, of the doctor's tongue in her mouth. She wanted to sink into.

It seemed to last forever, moving together, searching, questing, but it could only have been a moment, before Maura broke away, sucking in a deep gulp of air.

"Ok," Jane managed to murmur. It's both a question and a statement. Has it been ruined? You're my best friend. I would do anything for you. Am I dreaming?

"Okay," Maura responded gently, smiling shyly up at Jane, and the brunette couldn't help the large whoosh of air that left her in relief.

"Okay," and Maura giggled at the repetitive word. Jane smiled at her. "I-" she didn't know what to say. The past ten minutes had been as if she was watching herself from far away, trying to convince herself that she shouldn't, but then going ahead and doing it anyway. And maybe it wasn't ruined. Maybe.

Maura was contemplating her carefully. "You live here."

"Excuse me?"

"You have already moved in."

Jane nearly spluttered. No she didn't. No she hadn't. Had she? She tried to remember the last night she had spent in her apartment, but she couldn't. Most of her clothes were here. Jo Friday was here for God's sake.

Maura was watching her, seemingly unperturbed by the rapidly changing events. But then again, maybe it wasn't so rapid.

"Jane? Nothing needs to change."

"Nothing needs to-?" Jane gaped at her.

Maura merely shrugged, "We can always pretend it didn't happen. I know you may not agree, but sexuality can be quite fluid. You and I have been spending so much time together lately. Eating meals together. Working. Sleeping in the same bed. Dealing with..."

Jane cut her off with a single finger. "It's taken me months to work up the guts to do that. I don't think I can just take it back." She almost wanted to. To just run away, pretend she'd never changed the game. But she didn't either, because it had felt right, for just a minute, when she was holding Maura like she'd been wanting to do ever since Dr. Wilde gave her that pitying look, ever since Maura went home sick from the office that first time, ever since the warehouse. When she'd been close enough to Maura just then, actually, how she still was, as she realized they had yet to unhand one another, it felt right. Normal. How it should be. It felt as though she'd finally stopped pretending. Stopped trying to shove it away. For that brief moment, she'd felt light enough to fly.

"I don't want you to take it back." The honesty in Maura's tone was a bit disarming. "Best friends are often quite close."

"Maur," Jane snorted. "That was not just _close."_

"No," the blonde didn't give Jane time to react when she stretched up and pressed a quick peck to Jane's lips. "No. You're correct." She pulled away, putting several feet of space between them.

Jane wanted to move forward, to close the distance. "Doesn't this...change everything?" she asked instead, fearing the answer.

Maura almost looked like she was going to laugh. "Does it?"

The detective studied her socked feet and then glanced up from under her lashes. "Yes." She wasn't sure.

"Maybe."

"But... We're best friends."

"Yes. And you sleep in my bed, and you held my hair for me for five hours on Friday night, and your mother lives in my guest house, and I wanted to kiss you. And I still would like to kiss you."

"It does change _some _things."

"Yes," it's simple.

"Can I? Maybe?" Jane sees the understanding in the doctor's face, so she closes the distance between them once more, grazing their lips together, biting down gently, and then running her tongue soothingly across the spot. The butterflies are going wild in her stomach. It is perfect. They are perfect. She stepped back and smoothed her shirt anxiously with her hands.

She wants to say it. _I love you._ With Maura standing there in front of her, looking beautiful, and wonderful, and Jane feeling so ridiculously happy that her heart might just beat it's way out of her chest, she wants to say it. But you don't just kiss your best friend in her living room and then declare that you love her. No. You don't. So she holds her tongue.

Jane wants to know if this means she can kiss Maura whenever she wants to now. What they are now. But instead, Maura wobbles suddenly, and Jane remembers where they are, and that Maura has been standing for quite a long time, and that the doctor no longer does well with long periods of standing. So she takes Maura's hand in hers. It fits there nicely, palm to palm. But they already knew that. This is not new.

"I think I might lie down for awhile. Just until your mother gets here."

"Alright," Jane leads them towards the stairs, fingers still intertwined. It wasn't an exactly an invitation, and she isn't tired, but she's going to interpret it as one until Maura tells her otherwise.

Once they're in bed, Jane rolls over so she is facing the honey blonde, but she doesn't move closer. Normally, they fall asleep apart and wake up quite a bit closer together. But she isn't sure what proper protocol is once you've kissed your best friend. Maura decides for her when she scoots back until she is pressed against Jane's front. The detective's long arms wrap around her middle reflexively, pulling the doctor even closer. Jane rests her head behind Maura's ear, her light breathing causes goosebumps to run up the doctor's arms.

"What are we?" her voice cracks on the question.

From within her embrace Maura almost shrugs, an undignified gesture the medical examiner is not prone to.

"I mean - It's just that - Well, what does this make us now?" She is almost embarrassed. "Are we...girlfriends?" her lips move over the somewhat unfamiliar term. Jane has nothing against same sex couples, but she's never been particularly warm to the idea in the past. Not after all the crap she got from guys down at the brick when she became a cop, and then a female homicide detective. She's been putting up with the stereotypes and name calling for far too long to be completely comfortable with the idea right away.

"If you'd like to be," Maura responded softly, understandingly. "But it seems to me that we've already taken several of the steps which couples often take together. It may not be completely necessary to put a label on it at this point. Maybe for ourselves perhaps. But, if you don't want to, I see no need to tell your family and friends, or anyone at work until we want to."

Jane gave Maura a quick squeeze and couldn't resist pressing a kiss to the blonde's curls. How did Maura always do that. "Our family."

"Pardon."

"You said 'your family' but the Rizzolis are just as much your family as they are mine at this point. My mother adores you. You are the perfect daughter. So it's _our _family." That might be skipping a few steps. But Jane doesn't care. It's true.

"Alright."

"But you're right. I don't really know if anyone at work needs to know. Not yet." She snorts, "Especially not douche bags like Crowe. They'd have a field day."

"When we're ready, Jane."

Jane nods. "Okay. Thank you."

She can feel the medical examiner relaxing against her, growing heavier already with sleep. "Welcome," the doctor murmurs.

"Sleep," Jane whispers. Maura mumbles something Jane cannot make out, and then there is silence in the room. The brunette reaches down to pull the duvet over the top of them. She doesn't think she'll be able to sleep. She did only just wake up after all. Her mind is racing, trying to process the last thirty minutes. She kissed Maura. Maura kissed her back. As wonderful as it had been, as freeing as it had been, it didn't feel as though anything much had changed. She decided that Maura had been right. Maybe they had simply been skipping a couple of steps along the way. Maybe they'd been missing the point the entire time.

She thought back to her conversation with her mother from the previous day. She wondered again if Angela Rizzoli had known who they had actually be talking about. She couldn't be sure. For someone who was usually so loud and overbearing, Angela had been strangely tightlipped lately. Jane wondered how her mother would respond to learning that her only daughter, her greatest hope for grandchildren, was, in a sense, now dating a woman. Were they dating? She ground her teeth together in frustration. Maura just accepted it all. Her cavalier attitude made it seem as if she'd been expecting this, as if it was just another day in the life. Jane wanted to feel that way. In fact she almost could. But it also felt as if she'd stepped off of some sort of cliff, and she couldn't yet decide if she'd managed to learn to fly in time. It was terrifying. Liberating. Wonderful. But terrifying.

And not just because it potential meant telling her extremely Catholic mother, or the guys at BPD finding out eventually, because they would. At some point. Especially once her mother knew and likely blabbed it to the entire precinct café. But also because Maura was, well, she was Maura. And even sick, even going through chemotherapy and taking naps during the middle of the morning, she was still Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Ivy League educated, genius, gorgeous, cultured. She was everything that Detective Jane Rizzoli was not. It was intimidating. Terrifying.

Jane was frightened. But lying there, a sleeping woman in her arms, knowing that Maura felt comfortable enough to let down all of her safeguards in the detective's presence, Jane's entire body warmed at the happiness filling her. She was ridiculously happy. She had kissed Maura. And Maura kissed her back. It had been just as wonderful as she'd imagined it would be. Just as perfect. Holy hell.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Enjoy. Love.**

* * *

"I got it!" Jane yanked the door open, surprising the two men waiting out on the stoop.

"Are we late?" the older of the two asked.

"Aren't you always?" the brunette fired back snarkily.

Korsak grinned at her, stepping inside. "Watch it, Rizzoli. I'm your superior you know."

"Shut it, old man," she growled at him. "Did you have to bring him along?" she muttered under her breath to the other guest.

Frost merely grinned and shrugged. "You know how he is. Getting to be so senile in his old age. He really can't be left alone."

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Welcome to the crazy," Jane responded.

Korsak glared at her.

"Well, we come bearing gifts to tame the wild beasts." Frost held up the six pack in his hands, the amber bottles glinted in the light.

Jane clapped him on the back in gratitude. "You know my family so well."

"That's what partners are for, right? I've got your back." Jane smiled at his conspiratorial wink.

"Janie! Shut the door! You're letting all the cold air in," Jane's mother's high pitched voice wafted throughout the house causing all three detectives to wince slightly.

"Alright I am! Jesus," Jane growled, slamming the door loudly enough that the neighbors at the end of the block could have heard it.

"Damn, Jane. For someone who got the weekend off, you look like shit," Korsak teased her as she led the way deeper into the house.

"Me? Look who's talking. You look like somebody just broke you out of the old folk's home and then dragged you through the mud." Jane knew he was right. She was still tired, even after the nap that morning. But she also felt completely invincible. She'd kissed Maura eight hours ago. And Maura kissed her back. And no one knew. She wiped the grin off her face which had appeared at the memory.

"How didyou manage that?" Frost asked.

"What?" Jane replied.

"Getting the entire weekend off. You left the two of us to make up for your lazy ass. I've been busting my balls for the past 48 hours while you just lounge around."

Jane snorted. She could tell Frost was merely joking, but still, she did feel a little bit guilty for taking the entire weekend off. "Whatever. Like you two need an excuse to slack off."

Korsak punched Frost in the shoulder just as they entered the kitchen. "Good for you taking some time off, Janie. But I still think you look like crap."

The brunette threw up her hands in disgust just as her mother turned from the stove and practically squealed at the sight of their guests.

"Vince! Barry! We're so delighted you could come."

"They come every week, Ma." The woman escaped to the opposite side of the room as her mother came over to relieve the detectives of their beer and give them both warm hugs.

"Hush," her mother ordered good-naturedly.

"It smells delicious, Angela," Korsak enthused. "I think Sundays are my favorite day of the week."

"Thank you, Vince," the older woman was delighted at the compliment.

"Favorite day of the week my ass," Jane and Frost shared an amused look. "It's the only day you eat real food."

Korsak ignored her, but her mother frowned. "Watch your mouth, missy."

Jane held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I've got you as my mother, the woman who could make any Italian dish under the sun," her mother looked a bit appeased, "and a health nut as a-a best friend," she stumbled over the word. That other title had just wanted to slip out. Now that she'd said it once, she wanted to keep saying it. "All I eat these days is good food. Pasta and whatever vegetarian, non-processed, home-grown crap Maura is trying to shove down my throat."

"Speaking of the Doc, where is she?" Korsak questioned, peering around the room as if the medical examiner were hiding behind one of the cabinets.

Jane nearly flushed at the mention of her...Maura. "I-I think she's upstairs. Let me go get her. Dinner will be ready soon, right, ma?" She didn't give her mother time to answer. "You two get comfortable!" It all came out in a rush as she leaped for the stairs, but thankfully no one thought much of it. She heard her mother lead the two men into the living room where Frankie and Tommy were already parked on the couch in front of the game.

Jane headed straight for the bedroom, trying to calm her breathing. If the mere mention of Maura set her off, she wasn't sure how they were going to make it through the entire evening without her family and her partners finding out that she and the doctor had taken that...step. Well, not _that _step. But the step. Jane nearly groaned as her own thoughts got twisted up in images of what that step might look like, when it might be taken. Jesus. Every since that morning, Maura had been all she'd been able to think about. Maura's lips on hers. Cuddling the blonde close while they napped. Maura's mussed hair and sleepy gaze that afternoon when her mother had banged open the downstair's door loud enough to wake them both. Maura's smile when Jane hesitated for half a second before pressing a kiss to her cheek, to her other cheek, her forehead, her mouth. Maura's hands shaking as she buttoned up her shirt, the way she leaned ever so slightly on Jane as they'd taken the stairs down, the way she'd seemed just the slightest bit removed from the conversation in the kitchen with her mother earlier that afternoon, the way she'd escaped up to the bedroom to change, and, Jane knew to rest, before the rest of the family arrived. She sobered at those images. The reminders that tonight wasn't just the first day she'd kissed Maura, it was also the time for her family to find out abo-about _it._

She paused outside the bedroom door, straightened herself, took a deep breath, knocked and pushed the door open.

* * *

Maura fingered her curls thoughtfully, running her fingers through her hair, imagining a day where she might not have any hair. It could happen. It was a distinct possibility. She forced her thoughts away from such a petty topic, and instead focused on Jane, on Jane's family, on the conversation that was going to happen that evening. It was intimidating, knowing that all of the people she'd come to love were downstairs right at that moment, that before the night was through, they would all be aware of her condition. It was terrifying, although she couldn't exactly pinpoint what was making her so anxious. The thought that they might perceive it as weakness? No. That they might judge her? No. She couldn't figure it out.

But, Jane would be there. Jane. Her best friend. Her protector. Her care giver. The woman she loved. Jane. With her fierce brown eyes, and perfect body proportions, and curly, messy brown hair. With her laughter and her jokes, her sarcasm, her gentleness. Her loudness, her energy, her stillness, her hands, scarred yet strong. Jane. Maura found that she was running a finger delicately over her lips, remembering the way Jane's had felt pressed there, the taste of Jane in her, and forced herself to stop. But it was impossible to dampen the warmth she felt coursing through her veins, perhaps a metaphorically feeling which people described as they were falling in love, but one she swore she could actually feel, that was present within her. She'd been unsure, up until the point where she and Jane had made contact, up until the point when Jane had tangled her strong hand in Maura's own hair, had pressed her body close. Up until the point when Maura had felt her own body's immediate response, pushing back, wanting more. Up until that point, she had been hesitant, afraid, still curious, questing, but unsure.

Feeling Jane pressed so close, being held in such an intimate way by the detective, tasting Jane on her tongue, Jane's strong arms wrapped protectively around her as she drifted off to sleep. Waking to find Jane still so close, her head resting on the taller woman's chest. Jane, pressing light kisses before getting up. Jane, standing near her all afternoon, holding her hand when Angela was preoccupied. Jane, smiling at her before she'd come back upstairs, a question in her brown eyes which the doctor had been able to answer with a mere look. It felt delightful.

Maura had been with women before. This wasn't a brand new experience for her. She was aware of Jane's hesitation, of the detective's desire to keep it private. She understood, and she didn't feel the need for anyone else to know either. At least not right away. She didn't want anyone to jump to any assumptions concerning the timing of their relationship, assumptions that she was still working on controlling herself. Assumptions that were fears, whispering in the back of her mind, but which she refused to acknowledge.

So she had been with women. This was not uncharted waters for her as it was for the brunette. However, it was complicated, not just for that reason. Also because they were best friends, because Maura _was _sick, because of their professions, because they were colleagues, perhaps because of Jane's religious background. It was not an easy situation to be in, so Maura understood Jane's hesitation. She, too, wished to keep the relationship private, at least until she could discover exactly how closely Jane's feelings mirrored her own, if they did. Maura was quite adept at reading people based on their body language, based on certain social cues. And Jane wore her heart on her shirt. Sleeve? However, when the detective wished to keep her feelings private, even from the medical examiner, it was more than challenging to get anything from her.

The doctor wanted to rest her head in her hands and cry. It was all so completely overwhelming. She loved Jane. It was the one sentiment she kept coming back to. But you didn't tell the woman you'd kissed for the first time that day that you _loved _her. And that was not to mention the fact that Maura did not often use those three words in conjunction anyway. She'd told Jane once, when Tommy had been pursuing her, but it had been a statement of affection for a friend. A best friend. She'd told Ian. Maura thought back, trying to remember how many other people she'd said the phrase to. It was a short list. She knew that Jane, too, had a short list. They were so astoundingly similar in so many ways, she nearly laughed out loud.

Instead, she rubbed her temple in tight circles. She needed to get back downstairs. She'd been gone too long already and dinner would be ready soon. She frowned down at the bed covers. Jane. Work. Glioma. There was so much. Too much to try and process it all at once. Maura had often been proud of her own ability to compartmentalize. Tonight would simply need to be one of those times. All she could focus on was breaking the news to Jane's family...her family.

"You're thinking too hard," Jane's quiet voice interrupted her reverie. The detective took several slow steps into the room, until she was standing alongside the bed. "Your forehead is all scrunched up. That means you're thinking too hard."

Maura couldn't help the smile. "I'm not," her own voice sounded high in her ears.

Jane grinned at her. "Hives, Dr. Isles." She sat carefully down alongside Maura, hesitantly taking the doctor's soft hand in her own. Maura gave it a squeeze. "Everyone's downstairs. Ma said dinner will be ready soon."

"Yes." Maura bit her lip, and looked away from Jane's penetrating stare. Jane always seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Yo- We don't have to tell them tonight, Maur. It can wait, until you're ready."

Maura almost cried at the tenderness in Jane's tone. "I want to tell them. They need to be informed of the situation."

"But they don't need to know tonight. Not if you're not up to it," immediately Jane closed her mouth, fearing she may have offended the blonde. Maura was so independent, so strong.

But Maura wasn't at all offended. She'd accepted Jane's protectiveness long ago, and knew that it was only likely to grow as her diagnosis became a more normal part of life. "I want to tell them. You'll be there?" It's a silly question. Of course Jane would be in the room, but she means something more.

"For whatever you need," her reassurance is definitive, decided.

Maura looks up at her. How did she not see it before? The way Jane is looking at her is so much more than friendly. How did she not realize? She may be socially awkward, but she is also perceptive. How did she miss it? "So much wasted time," she murmured.

"Hmm?" Jane leaned closer.

"Nothing," the doctor didn't want the detective to hear her. "Should we go?"

Jane shrugged it off. "Sure. I'm starving. Are you hungry?" She was watching Maura closely, reading her reaction, trying to determine if she was going to have to force feed the doctor.

"I am," it was true. Her appetite may have decreased lately, but she could smell Angela's lasagna from there, and it smelled delicious. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Jane laughed at the sound. "Well then. Dinner time, Doctor Isles." She leaned forward to press a quick peck to Maura's red lips. When she pulled back, both women were blushing. Jane stood and offered the doctor her hand, pulling Maura up beside her and wrapping her into a hug immediately, masking the ME's dizziness in their shared action.

"You're amazing, Maur," Jane murmured into her hair, and Maura blushed more at the compliment. Such niceties were rare coming from Jane. The ME didn't know how to respond. Normally, she would have acknowledged the statement, but asked for clarification. Instead, she kept silent, and Jane seemed to understand. Neither let go or pulled away for several long minutes. Both women seemed to be steeling themselves for what was to come, tonight, tomorrow, next week, in a month. It was all so uncertain, new, frightening. Maura slowed her breathing unconsciously until it was in time with Jane's.

Tonight: dinner, glioma, Angela, Barry, Vince, Tommy and Frankie. But Jane would be there the entire time. She took a deep breath, and they parted at the same moment, releasing one another and stepping away.

"Okay," it was a question.

Maura nodded in response and led the way towards the stairs. Her hand linked in Jane's until just before they entered the light of the kitchen. Okay.

* * *

"Pass the tortellini, Ma?"

"Jesus, Frankie! That's your fourth serving."

"Shut up, Tommy. I don't see you slowing down any."

"Boys! No fighting at the table!" Angela's piercing voice rang out over the din coming from the table.

Maura returned Jane's smirk with a smile of her own. '_Boys,' _Jane mouthed to her with a roll of her eyes. Maura covered her mouth with her napkin to hide her mirth, as she felt Jane slide her hand quickly into Maura's own under the table and provide a quick moment of pressure before letting go. It was never a quiet affair when you gathered all of the Rizzoli's around a single table. She poked at her food again, her appetite having disappeared as soon as they all sat down around the table.

"So, Vince, Barry, how was work this weekend?" Angela pointedly changed the subject, glaring at her two younger children who were avoiding her look and shoveling food into their mouths.

"Good, good," Vince responded as Frost nodded in agreement. "It was pretty slow. No new cases."

"See! You didn't even need me," Jane joined in.

"Yeah, whatever, Rizzoli. Just 'cause you were slacking all weekend."

Jane swatted at Korsak and they all laughed. Maura felt a moment of shame. Jane hadn't had the weekend off originally, but she'd spoken to Cavenaugh after assuring Maura that there were always guys willing to pick up a few extra hours of overtime. The doctor wasn't sure if that was precisely true. Jane was usually the one pulling long hours, working overtime. But she'd finally accepted it when the detective had refused to back down. Now, she was thankful she'd had Jane by her side.

"You're just jealous because Cavenaugh likes me the best. Get used to it, Frosty boy."

Frost groaned at her. "It's cause you're a female."

"Ohhh!" Jane nearly yelled. "Pulling out the sexist card are we? I'll have you know, it's because of pure, raw talent. You're jealous." But she grinned at him mischievously to let him know she was joking and he smiled back.

"You had the weekend off, too, right, Maura?" Frankie asked suddenly.

Maura nodded. "I did."

The middle Rizzoli brother shared a look with Korsak and Barry that Maura couldn't interpret. "So, what'd you two ladies do with all that free time?" Now there was definitely a shared look. Jane saw this one too, and she threw a role across the table at her brother.

"Jane!" Angela shrieked.

Maura still felt lost. "Well, actually," she cleared her throat, and Jane turned to look at her searchingly. They hadn't discussed when to bring it up. Maura was simply going to let it happen naturally, if at all, and this was just as good a time as any. "Actually," she repeated, staring at Jane, "I-I, um, have some news," she fumbled for the correct wording. Important, public announcements about private matters were not her forte. Jane's hand was back in her own. Maura internally cursed her anxiety, which was causing her palms to sweat.

"I have something that I wa-need to tell you all." Everyone grew quiet and turned to face her. Even Tommy chewed his last bite, swallowed noisily and set his fork down. Maura never looked so serious when they were all together. They could tell, by her tone, by the way Jane's shoulders had hunched in anticipation, how the two were staring at one another. Maura forced herself to look away from Jane's deep brown eyes and sweep her gaze over the others at the table. Her friends. Her family.

"It is not exactly, that is, I'm not sure how to..." she trailed off.

Angela was looking between her daughter and the blonde, "Maura? Honey?" The matriarch's voice shook slightly, tinged just a little bit with fear, and that was enough to heave Maura past her indecision.

"Lately, I have been experiencing headaches, blurred vision, exhaustion," it was easiest to just list the symptoms. "I met with an old...friend...from medical school. A, um, a neurologist." She felt Jane stiffen beside her, and Angela exhaled in what could almost have been classified as a whimper. Maura pressed on. "We ran several tests, and it was determined that I have what is called a glioma," she looked back at Jane. The detective was scanning the table, watching everyone's reactions.

"Glioma?" Angela's voice was soft.

Maura hesitated. "It's a-" Jane's voice cracked, "a tumor, Ma. In Maura's brain."

Angela covered her mouth with her hand. "Shit," Tommy muttered. Frankie exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair. Frost made a fist on the table, and Korsak sighed.

"How bad?" Frost piped up. "How bad is it?"

Once again, Maura was at a loss. She couldn't lie.

"It's not good," Jane answered, glancing at the woman next to her. Maura couldn't meet her gaze.

Suddenly the questions were flying around the room. _When? How? What does that mean exactly? Treatment? _

"Chemotherapy," Jane managed to get in. "Three times a week. Four weeks. Two week rest period. We, that is, Maura had the first treatment on Friday."

It was loud, overwhelming. Everyone was speaking at once, and Maura didn't know where to look, who to address, how to respond. Jane had said '_we.' _She had referred to them as unit. The pounding in her temples increased threefold. She could no longer ignore the pain. Her breathing was coming sharp and fast. She was unable to slow her racing heartbeat.

Suddenly, Jane was hovering over her, closer than she'd been before. "Maura? Maur? Why don't we go upstairs? You can lie down for a bit."

"I-" she wanted to argue. To stay and answer everyone's questions. She didn't want to leave Jane alone with them, not after dropping such horrible news into their laps, but she could hardly focus through the pain in her skull. She was choking down the need to vomit. They were all still talking, but Jane was ignoring them.

"Let me take you upstairs. C'mon. C'mon, sweetheart." The detective half-lifted Maura from her seat, supporting her weight without making it obvious. "I'll be right back," she said when her mother looked at her, mouth open to question; fear and confusion evident on her features. "Maura just needs to lay down for a bit. I'll be right back down." And then she bustled the ME off into the hallway and up the stairs, practically lifting Maura into her arms as soon as they were clear of the dining room and out of sight.

"I'm sorry," Maura managed to mutter, but Jane hushed her, pushing the bedroom door open with her foot and settling Maura down on the bed.

"Do you want some aspirin? Water?" Jane asked, suddenly sounding almost frantic.

"It hurts," the blonde bit the words out.

"Alright. Alright. Here," and then Jane was sitting behind her, and Maura was leaning back against her, falling into her. "Where?" the brunette asked and Maura pointed. Jane's long fingers were suddenly there rubbing in slow circles, her other hand at the base of Maura's neck, easing the tension, and the pressure. Maura tried to relax into it, tried to breathe evenly through the pain, to focus instead on the feeling of Jane's hands on her skin, on the detective's raspy voice murmuring in her ear.

Eventually, the pain lessened, enough so that she could unclench her hands, stretch out her muscles, breathe without having to think about it. "I'm sorry, Jay. They were just all talking so quickly. So loudly. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's alright, Maur," Jane nuzzled her hair. "They're overwhelming even in the best of circumstances."

"I need to go back down there. To explain," but Jane was already moving, sliding out from behind her and pushing Maura back down on the mattress, pulling the duvet up over her shaking form.

"Just stay here," she ordered. "Please?" she brushed a hand gently along Maura's cheek. "I can answer their questions tonight. There will be more. Later. Just rest now."

Maura's head felt heavy now that the pain was passing, her eyes threatened to close. "Jane-"

"It's okay, Maur. Just rest. I'll be back up in just a bit. Rest," and Jane pressed a kiss to Maura's temple, right above where she had been rubbing, then she was gone, leaving behind a hint of lavender.

Maura wanted to get up. Really, she did. Because that had not gone well, and she was embarrassed for having such a horrible reaction and because those people were her family and she had scared them. She wanted to go back downstairs, but the headache was still there, a constant, never-ending, debilitating reminder that she was no longer whole, and she couldn't force herself to move.

Jane was there. She would comfort them, answer their questions, see them out the door. And then she would come back upstairs and pull Maura into her arms, and the doctor would feel complete again, even with the pain. She just needed to wait for Jane. So Maura allowed her eyes to close, her mind to relax, the haze of hurt and fear to spread throughout her, muffling her senses, cocooning her in a state of half-sleep while she waited for Jane to return.

* * *

The brunette closed the door gently behind her and leaned against it. That could have gone better. They all had started talking at once, not allowing her or Maura to get a word in edgewise. It had been so overwhelming. She resisted the urge to go back into the bedroom, crawl under the covers, spoon with the ME, and hide out until the guests all left. She had to face them again.

But when she got back downstairs, everyone was gone. Only her mother was left, slowly stacking the dishes and carrying them back into the kitchen.

"Ma?"

"I sent them all home," her mother answered, not making eye contact with her eldest child. "How's Maura?"

Jane cocked her head to the side, considering how to answer such a potentially loaded question. She decided on the most basic answer, "She's resting. It was a bit much."

"I can imagine," her mother lifted the last load and headed for the kitchen; Jane trailed in her wake.

"Ma..."

"I said that we would call them. Your brothers, Barry, and Vince. Or that you would talk to them at work. Since you all seem to have the same job. One of these days someone is going to question if we're trying to take over the BPD. There's so many of us," her mother sounded half-amused, half-flustered.

Jane tried to smile and failed miserably. "Ma."

Her mother was loading the dishwasher now. "Is that why you've been staying here?"

"I-Yes." It was the simplest response.

"So you'll be staying?"

"Yes," that one required no thought.

Jane was worried. Her mother was being unnaturally calm. "What do I need to do?"

"Yo-You? I, well, I'm not sure. We're still just trying to figure this whole thing out. Come to terms with it, you know?"

"Has Ma-she spoken to her parents?"

Jane wondered why her mother stumbled over the name. "Not yet. She wanted to tell you guys first."

"Janie," and finally, her mother closed the dishwasher with a crash and looked up at her, "how bad is it?"

Jane chewed on the inside of her lip, not answering immediately. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about odds and numbers and chances. Instead she'd focused on one step at a time. Diagnosis, treatment. Kisses. She shoved that thought away. Not now. Not yet. Should she tell her mother the numbers or leave that for Maura? "Ma," her mouth seemed to decide for her, because it came out sounding strangled, frightened.

"Oh, sweetie," and then her mother was there, enveloping Jane in her arms. Holding tightly, rubbing soothing circles into the rigid detective's back as she'd done when Jane was five and woken from a nightmare in the middle of the night. Jane let herself be held. It had been her and Maura for what seemed like forever, with no one else in sight, no outside support. It was so wonderful to be allowed to sag into someone else's waiting arms. Just this once.

"Janie," her mother's voice was calming, understanding, strong. She stepped back and patted her daughter lovingly on the cheek.

"It's bad, Ma. And she went in for chemo on Friday and that night she was just so sick. And I don't know what I'm doing. Or how to help her. And I'm afraid to mess up. God, Ma. I just - I just don't understand why this is happening. Why it's happening to _her." _She was crying but she couldn't remember the tears forming. "She's so good, Ma. So freaking good. And she's going to get worse. So, so much worse. I don't know what to do." It was both a plea and a confession. She was terrified. She was begging her mother for help in the only way she knew how. Jane had never felt so helpless.

Angela was watching her daughter empathetically. Tears running down her cheeks which mirrored those running down Jane's. "Oh baby." She had questions. Millions of them. But they could wait, for now. "Oh, my sweet girl," she wrapped her daughter into another hug.

"You'll get through this, Janie. You and Maura both. She's strong. A fighter. You know that," she couldn't help the sense of pride that filled her when Jane nodded in agreement. "You're both fighters. And it's alright not to know what you're doing. Just so long as you stick around. Just keep on being there for her, and you'll be doing the right thing."

"Yes."

"Janie. My brave girl," Angela kissed her on the cheek. "She's my daughter too, you know." Her voice caught on the words.

"I know," it was whispered.

"And I love her, too."

"I know."

"So, for tonight, I'm going to head back to the guest house, and you'll go upstairs and take care of that woman. And tomorrow, you and Maura tell me what you need. Tell us all what you need. Because you're not alone, Janie. I'm here. The boys are here. You've got Vince and Detective Frost. We all love Maura."

Jane stared at her mother.

"We love you both. She's a part of the family. So we'll do what must be done," Angela clapped her hands together tightly. "We'll get her through this."

"Ma, it-it's not that simple."

Angela smiled at her softly. "I know that, sweetheart. But Maura is strong, and she has you, and us. She's not alone. And neither are you. So, tomorrow. I'll call the boys for tonight and then we'll get everything squared away later on."

"Ma," Jane didn't understand how her mother was suddenly so calm about this.

"It's enough for tonight, Janie," and her mother was quite serious. "For tonight, this is enough. Okay?"

"Okay," Jane agreed, feeling six years old. "Thank you."

Angela was still holding her arms, rubbing up and down gently.

"Thank you," Jane repeated.

"It's enough, Jane. Enough for tonight."

Jane stared at her mother and suddenly she was sobbing again, back in Angela's widespread, waiting arms.

"It's enough. Enough. Enough for tonight."

* * *

When Jane slid beneath the covers, she pressed her cold toes to Maura's warm calf and sighed at the heat. The doctor didn't even stir as Jane pressed a kiss to her temple and then wrapped her arms around the blonde's middle, holding her tightly. She laid there for hours, waiting for sleep to come. Tomorrow there was work, and Maura's second chemotherapy treatment. Tomorrow she and Maura would tackle this all again, answering questions, working out a plan. Tomorrow, she would kiss Maura, _'Good morning,' _and make breakfast and drive them in to the station. Tomorrow she would be strong.

Her mother would have questions. So would the boys. Questions that required answers. They would want to help, and she would need to learn how to accept it, as would Maura. Together, they would need to learn how to rely on others outside of themselves, outside of the '_we' _they had so suddenly become.

But for tonight, she let the tears fall silently down her cheeks, off the tip of her nose, onto the bed sheets. She held Maura tightly and let herself cry. Because tomorrow, she would go back to being strong. Solid. But tonight; tonight, this was enough. She was enough. Having Maura here, asleep beside her, was enough.


	31. Chapter 31

**Guys, guys, guys: I am horribly, terribly sorry about the long wait. I know where I want this piece to go. Hell, I have the entire thing mapped out. I just couldn't seem to make the words come. And this chapter is _not _my best. I apologize. But there's a blizzard going on outside right now and y'all deserved an update. So, I rushed through and it might be bad, but it might not be. Let me know what you think. Please. Your words mean a lot. Love.**

* * *

Maura felt the sudden tension in the stomach muscles under her arm which indicated Jane's transition from sleep into wakefulness, but she didn't shift her position. Her ear was pressed to Jane's sternum, almost directly above where the brunette's heart was located. She'd been counting the beats for almost five minutes, ever since she'd awoken to find herself pressed tightly to the other woman's thin frame. It was soothing, and had quickly become her favorite way to wake up in the mornings.

"Morning," Jane's husky voice broke the stillness of the room. Maura could feel the rumble in Jane's chest.

Instead of answering, she merely snuggled closer, sighing gratefully when Jane's long arms closed around her, reveling in the way they fit so tightly together. Her nose was cold so she pressed her face into Jane's sleeping shirt, inhaling the unique scent of her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. She could still hardly believe it, even now, a month later.

They laid that way for several moments. Maura waited patiently for Jane to pull herself completely out of her dreams and into the new day. "We should get up," she murmured after an acceptable amount of time had elapsed. But Jane merely tightened her hold, and began running her hand lightly up and down Maura's back. The doctor knew what Jane was doing. She'd taken to the action subconsciously in recent days. She wasn't even sure if the brunette was aware that she was running her fingers up and down the bumps along Maura's spine, counting the ridges and dips, feeling how close her spine was to the surface, how fragile she'd become in the last four weeks. At first, Maura had shifted away as soon as Jane's hand drifted there. She needed the reminder less than Jane did. After a time however, when Jane would jump as she pulled away, her dark brown eyes becoming shiny with hurt, Maura had stopped. It was a soothing gesture, not a harmful one. She could handle it.

So she stayed put as the brunette's long fingers counted the bones in her spinal column, and she named them to herself. T2. T3. T4. "T5," the other woman's hand paused at the title and then continued on. "T6," she said allowed again. "T7." And on like that, down and back up. It was somewhat of a morning routine. A ritual.

When Jane reached the top once more, her voice came out of the quiet, "Are you sure, Maur?" She didn't need to clarify.

"I spoke to Governor Patrick on Monday, Jane," she reminded her partner softly. It's best."

Jane sighed. "Are you sure you're ready though?"

Maura felt the lump rise in the back of her throat. It was a purely emotional reflex to the concern in Jane's voice. To the idea of what her day would hold. She couldn't trust her voice to come out clear, so she merely nodded. It was for the best. It was. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that fact.

"Well, I should get ready then," Jane said, but she made no move to leave the warm embrace.

Maura nodded again, knowing she would need to be the first to pull away. Jane never wanted to let go. She pressed a light kiss to Jane's shirt above the beating of her heart, unable to help the thrill that ran through her when Jane shivered at the light touch. It was astonishing the power she seemed to have over Jane's physical reactions and vice versa. They hadn't taken that next step yet, hadn't gotten past the level of hand holding and kisses much more than what Jane had dubbed a 'good ole fashioned make out session.' But Maura was ready. She wanted Jane. Wanted her so badly sometimes it made her ache. Not all the time of course. Not after she'd just spent the night vomiting, or hooked up to the IV wires receiving a treatment. No, at those times, she felt decidedly unattractive. She would have felt embarrassed to be seen by anyone at those times, but the detective had a way of making her feel safe, perhaps not any better, but safe, not judged or stared at, simply cared for. It was why Maura refused to allow Angela over on the nights after her chemotherapy treatments, why Jane had, so far, been the only one to drive her to the hospital and back three times a week. Jane made her feel safe.

At those times, the thought of sexual intercourse with Jane was one of the few thoughts she did not allow herself to contemplate. And every morning, she had to fight down the anxiety, the little voice in her head that whispered that this, this would be the day when Jane would finally realize what a mistake she'd made. This would be the day Jane's gaze would turn from one of care, (love?), to one of distaste and disgust. Every single morning after an episode of sickness and weakness. But every time, Jane kissed the top of her head and smiled at her over her morning coffee, and drove them in to work with her free hand resting lightly in Maura's on the center console. And every morning, Jane Rizzoli took her breath away with her devotion, her rough edged beauty, her honesty.

Maura forced herself to roll away from the detective and sit up gently, waiting for the darkness to recede from the edges of her vision. It never truly went away, not anymore. The blurriness was always there now. The head rush as she changed from horizontal to vertical. Mornings were a much slower process now than they had been. She glanced back over her shoulder to find Jane studying her profile, head cocked slightly to the side, brown curls mussed from the pillow.

She opened her mouth. _I love you. _It was there. On the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Because there was the chance that Jane might not say it back, that she might not feel _that way _about Maura in return. Or, and this was a more terrifying thought in the doctor's mind, Jane could say it in turn, but not truly mean it. The cancer was like a string, tying Jane to her. Of course the brunette could leave at any time, walk away, go on with her life without all the medical terminology and pain and illness hanging over her head. Unlike Maura, she could leave it all behind. But, the ME was nearly certain that Jane wouldn't do that. The brunette was loyal to fault, and once she gave her word, she did not back down. It was something the honey blonde found so very endearing about the other woman. Jane was so purely good. So innocently honest. But, because of that string, those knots, there was the chance that Jane might feel forced to respond if Maura let her know exactly how deep her feelings ran for the detective. And she didn't want that. Above all else, Maura wanted Jane to love her. But that love should come freely, without being obligated by illness, without the weight of a brain tumor hanging over it. So she didn't say it, she pushed it back, swallowed the words whole, nearly choking on them as they passed.

Instead she gave Jane a smile, one which the detective returned lazily. "It's Friday," Jane said, reaching forward and pressing one finger onto the back of Maura's hand.

"No chemo," Maura returned.

"No," the brunette shrugged at her with an almost happy grin. "No."

Maura flipped her hand and gave Jane's finger a quick squeeze to let her know that it was alright to be happy about no chemo. She'd started taking the happiness where she could find it. The goodness. "No." Letting go, she rose shakily to a standing position and made her way towards the bathroom. She could feel Jane's dark eyes on her, watching her, assessing. Was it going to be a good day or a bad day? Somehow the detective always seemed to know even before Maura herself did.

Jane seemed to decide on good day, because she didn't say anything more as Maura disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. If was a bad day, the brunette would have said something, anything. She wouldn't ask how Maura was feeling, that question had quickly been outlawed. But she would have prodded and poked around until she got the answer she knew was waiting, the one she was looking for. And then they would argue about work, Jane insisting that Maura take a half day at least, while the doctor fought back just as hard for the right to make her own decisions. She always won of course; Jane could never really deny her anything, a power Maura had to force herself not to abuse at times. And she sometimes wondered if she ought to feel upset when Jane tried to exert control in such a manner, but she never did. The detective only did it because she cared, and worried, and was wonderful. So they'd argue, but without any of the heat Jane was so famous for, until the brunette would cave and they'd both go about their business, meeting in the kitchen for coffee before heading in.

But today, Jane let her escape to the bathroom without a word, which meant today was either going to be a good day, or else Jane just couldn't seem to make up her mind. Maura certainly couldn't. She pulled off her night shirt and slipped out of her silk pants, avoiding the mirror above the sink, before stepping into the warm spray of the shower. Today would either be good or bad or somewhere in between, but it was necessary. It was time. She and Jane were just going to have to accept it.

* * *

Jane waited until the sound of running water hit her hears before sighing and slipping out of bed. The chill seeped into her immediately and she rushed for the guest bathroom, turning on the water to let it heat up as she slid out of her pajamas. She looked up and caught her own gaze in the mirror. Her eyes slid down her thin form involuntarily. She ignored the blush that rose in her cheeks and instead attempted to view herself clinically. She pinched the skin of her stomach, still tight even now, hard. She had to admit that she was quite attractive. Well-proportioned, muscled. Men were often attracted to her, despite her somewhat flat figure. She idly wondered if Maura was attracted to her. Sometimes she'd look up from whatever she was doing and find the doctor's hazel eyes several shades darker than usual, so piercing it was if she was burning a hole straight through Jane's defenses. It always made Jane shiver when she caught Maura looking at her that way, more so since she herself was often guilty of looking at the doctor in strinkingly similar manner.

Jane realized that her thoughts had drifted in a somewhat embarrassing direction, so she stepped into the shower, the heat making her gasp. It was a slight distraction however, not enough to keep her from Maura for long. The other woman didn't seem to realize how gorgeous she actually was, even now, too skinny with dark circles under her eyes. Jane found herself licking her lips at the feeling of Maura's firm stomach muscles moving under her hand while they cuddled in bed, of the way her own nipples tightened in response whenever the honey blonde brushed up against her. Of the morning before when Jane had awoken to find one of Maura's legs resting between her own, of slipping out of bed before Maura could wake up or shift position and discover the warm wetness pooling between Jane's legs, separated from Maura's skin by only two thin layers. Jane jerked out from under the spray when she felt her hand drifting lower on her body, making circular motions across her chest, between her breasts, past her navel. She was mimicking the way Maura had touched her several days ago. She flipped the knob quickly, reveling in the iciness that jetted out of the shower head, cooling her growing desire.

She wanted Maura. She shivered at the thought. She wanted Maura. Jane had never been exactly comfortable with the open idea of sex. Maura had often tried to discuss it in front of her cavalierly, and Jane would always clam up, growing red simply at the thought. She just wasn't as comfortable discussing it as Maura was. The doctor had always seemed so ridiculously confident in her own skin. Before, when they'd dated men, Maura would try to break down any of Jane's sexual encounters, of which there had been few, but Jane would usually hightail out of the conversation as quickly as possible. With Maura however, it was different than it had ever been. Jane found herself becoming aroused at a simple touch from the doctor, at her hand on her thigh, at the way Maura bit her lip while she was concentrating on something. At completely inapprorpriate times. And, loathe as she was to admit it, it was a huge distraction and quickly becoming somewhat of a problem. She'd tried...fixing...it herself, but that only served to make her want the touch of the honey blonde even more. Jane groaned as she soaped her hair.

She wanted Maura. But she couldn't. Not just because Maura was a woman and Jane had never been with a woman... in that way. That was its own peck of problems. No, it was because Maura was Maura. She was hot. And sexy. Without even really appearing to try. Because she was confident. Because what if Maura didn't want her. Because what if she wasn't any good at it. Because what if Maura didn't love her back. And there it was. The honest truth. What if Maura didn't love her back? Jane loved Maura. She knew it like she knew her own name. It was her last thought before sleeping and her first thought on waking. That and had the past six weeks simply been a dream. But she loved Maura, and if Maura didn't love her back, if this whole relationship thing was simply a mistake, a result of life changing, devastating news, Jane didn't think she'd be able to survive it. It was a ridiculous, completely overdramatic thought, but a truthful one. She loved Maura Isles more than she'd ever loved anyone or anything, and it was terrifying to imagine that Maura didn't love her back. So terrifying, that Jane hadn't been able to bring herself to say it out loud while Maura was awake. So terrifying that she'd avoided her desire, her physical _need _to have Maura in order not to slip up, not to let it slip out. She loved Maura. She wanted her. She needed her. But she was terrified.

Jane sauntered into the kitchen some time later to find the doctor already dressed and ready. Surprised, she glanced at the clock. She must have spent more time arguing with herself and lost in her thoughts than she'd realized. They wouldn't be late. No, they got up much too early for that. Jane nearly whimpered at how early they'd started waking up. But still, it was later that usual. She forced herself to move forward and take the seat at the counter, a mug, bagel, and the paper already ready and waiting.

"I don't see why it has to be Pike though," she began, picking up the discussion they'd been having for days in order to avoid the thought of unzipping Maura out of her dress, or the thought that Maura was getting much too skinny, which quickly followed on the first's heels.

The honey blonde let out a sigh. "I will assist them in looking for someone else. But for now, Dr. Pike is the only available option for my replacement."

"Temporary," Jane interjected. "Temporary replacement."

Maura gave her a smile which didn't reach her eyes. "Right." She walked over and filled Jane's mug from the French press.

Jane reached out a hand before the doctor could escape and pulled Maura closer, pleased when Maura automatically leaned over to place a chaste kiss on Jane's waiting lips. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," and this time, the smile lit up the doctor's entire face.

It would be only too easy to follow up with three short words, but Jane wouldn't allow herself the luxury. Instead, she pressed a kiss to Maura's cheek and released her, taking a sip of her coffee and reaching for the paper. She waited until Maura had poured her own mug and then taken a seat beside her, before unfolding the item and beginning, aloud, on the cover stories.

She'd started reading the paper to Maura the week before when she'd come downstairs to find Maura in tears over the tiny print. At the time, Jane had been uncertain on how to comfort the other woman. Maura's vision had been getting worse, not better, even with the treatments. It was something they never really addressed outright, preferring instead to smooth it over with other things. Maura could still read of course, but it was challenging and always left her with a horrible headache, exhausted, and upset. And the newspaper was not a good enough reason to start the day off in a bad mood.

So on that particular morning, Jane had slid into the seat next to the blonde, pulled the offending article gently out of her shaking hands, snapped it into place, and begun reading. Maura's tears had slowed and finally stopped, and then they never spoke of it again. Instead, Jane simply read them both the main articles at breakfast while they ate, and that was that.

When she was finished, Maura had slid their plates and cups into the dishwasher. Jane closed the paper up and tossed it into the recycling, before walking up behind the doctor and wrapping her into a quick hug. The touching had become a much more commonplace occurrence. Never in front of anyone else, but when they were alone, Jane found that the easiest way to stifle her desire was to have her hands on Maura as much as possible. And the doctor never objected, seeming to enjoy the frequent PDA as much as Jane. She pressed her lips to Maura's neck, and the doctor rolled her head back to rest on Jane's shoulder.

"Ready?" she asked.

Maura murmured her assent.

Jane wanted to ask one more time if the blonde was certain, but she didn't. If Maura wasn't absolutely ready, they wouldn't be taking this next step. It was time. As much as she didn't want to admit it, it was time. And she was just going to have to accept it.

* * *

Jane dropped her hand as soon as the elevator dinged and Maura missed the contact immediately. They still hadn't made their relationship known to Jane's family or any of their friends, but it was becoming more difficult for both of them to remain completely professional outside of their home. Maura had discovered that she would lose focus easily, even going so far as to drift away from a conversation ever since her chemotherapy had started. Not only her vision was deteriorating, but also her attention span. When Jane was near her however, things came into clearer focus. The detective appeared to act as some sort of tuning device for Maura, an anchor of sorts.

The doctor forced herself back to the present as the doors slid open and Jane led the way out onto the homicide floor. They walked side by side through the glass doors. Barry Frost was behind his desk, but the rest of the floor was still quiet so early on a Friday.

"Morning Jane. Maura," he nodded to them both and Maura smiled back at him. Barry was a good man. A solid partner for Jane. He seemed to know when the fiery woman needed him to be silent support and when she needed her space, and Maura appreciated his friendship, both for Jane and for herself.

"Frost," Jane nodded to him, but her determined expression didn't fade. She glanced towards Cavenaugh's closed office door and groaned when she spotted Dr. Pike waiting there.

Maura grimaced as well.

"Dr. Isles!" The older man's voice echoed throughout the empty room. "I thought you said 8 o'clock."

"It's 8:04," Jane nearly snarled. Maura placed a calming hand on the detective's elbow. She could feel Jane vibrating beneath her touch. Frost cocked an annoyed eyebrow that the man's rude tone.

"Dr. Pike, thank you for agreeing to meet me," she said, aiming her cool words at the other man, but glancing at Jane while she spoke. "I'm sorry we're late."

"Yes, well..." the man trailed off, surprised at the apology. "Should we get on with it?"

"Of course," Maura agreed, but before walking over to him, she turned to face Jane. The detective was looking at her searchingly. "I'm alright," she said low enough so as to be for Jane's ears alone. The detective didn't relax at all, but her lips turned up in the hint of a reassuring smile.

"I'll be out here when you're done."

"Thank you," Maura wanted to kiss her. "Barry," she nodded to him as she passed and he grinned at her, glancing over at Jane to let her know he had it under control.

Pike had already knocked and gone in to Cavenaugh's office so she followed him inside, squaring her shoulders as she stepped across the threshold. It was time.

"Dr. Isles!" Lt. Sean Cavenaugh greeted her with enthusiasm. "Dr. Pike," the gentleman received a much less friendly welcome.

"Lieutenant," Maura replied.

"Sean," he ordered, not for the first time. He liked Dr. Isles. She was professional, intelligent, and she didn't take any crap from the guys. Plus, she seemed to be the only one able of mellowing out Jane Rizzoli, for which he was more than grateful.

"I assume you both know why I've asked to meet with you," she began. Pike rolled his eyes, but Sean merely looked at her. "I spoke to Governor Patrick on Monday, and he has since been in contact with Dr. Pike," she indicated the other medical examiner. "As of today, I will be leaving Boston PD for an indeterminate length of time," she forced the words out quickly.

Neither man looked surprised. Good.

"I will be taking a medical leave of absence. And Dr. Pike will be filling in for me as a temporary replacement while the governor looks for a more suita-that is, someone more permanent." Pike looked annoyed at her slip up, but she ignored him. "I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation Lieutenant, since this change will directly affect homicide's dealings with the morgue." Cavenaugh nodded understandingly. "I will spend today bringing Dr. Pike up to speed on the open cases, and after that will be available via telephone and email if the need arises. Dr. Pike will also be keeping me up to date on everything."

Making the decision to leave had not been easy. The distraction her work provided had been welcome after the diagnosis. But after four weeks of chemotherapy, she could hardly stand upright for more than five minutes at a time, let alone spend eight hours a day at work.

Jane had, in fact, been more difficult to bring around to the idea than Maura would have thought. She assumed that with her protective nature, she would pleased. But instead, she'd seemed unsure. Supportive of course. But hesitant to completely agree. She'd insisted that Maura offer Cavenaugh her email and phone number for assistance in order to remain, at least somewhat, tethered to BPD. Jane had declared that Maura was the best ME they'd ever had, that Pike was an ignorant old fool, and that if Jane was going to have to work with him, she at least wanted to know that Maura was going to be aware of his actions, able to step in if need be. Maura had been forced to agree that it was logical.

Plus, she was reluctant to give up everything in one fell swoop. She honestly enjoyed her work. She found it rewarding and engaging and interesting. And she was a tiny bit afraid of what spending days at home might mean for her psyche. Work kept her focused, sharp. She relied on it. And so although she was taking time off, she would not be completely removed.

"Of course we'll be so sorry to see you go," Maura jerked back to herself to realize that Sean had been speaking. "But all of us here at homicide are rooting for you." The man looked decidedly uncomfortable. These were not his normal sailing waters.

"Thank you," she cut in, letting him off the hook. "Dr. Pike, we should get started." The other man merely sniffed and led the way out of the office.

"Dr. Isles," Cavenaugh's voice pulled her back.

"Yes?"

"About Det - that is - about Rizzoli..." he trailed off. Maura waited, unsure where he was going with it. "I know she's been taking the time off to-well-to be there...for you."

Maura nodded. Jane had said she'd talked to Cavenaugh. That he'd okay'ed it. Had he not?

"I spoke to her already of course, but I just wanted to let you know that it's alright."

"Pardon?" Maura was sincerely confused at this point.

"I'm not upset with her. For taking the time off," he clarified. "I just wanted to be sure you knew that. She's got about a year's worth of vacation days saved up anyways. Plus it makes my job that much easier when she's not around to be insubordinate," he smiled at her to let her know he was joking. "But it's a good thing, what's she doing. So don't be worried about that, alright?"

Maura felt a weight lift that she hadn't even been aware of. Jane had talked to Cavenaugh and had told her, time and again, that it was okay for her to be taking so much time off. But still, Maura had felt guilty about it. Jane was sacrificing a lot for her already, and her job, something she had, up until that point, given her life to, was quite a lot to give up, even if in a part time manner. At the Lt.'s words, the honey blonde felt the tension ease.

"Thank you, Sean," she said softly, tears suddenly filling her eyes. The man looked decidedly uncomfortable at the impending display of emotion.

"Like I said, we're all rooting for you. And Rizzoli, well, she's a good one to have in your corner."

Maura didn't understand the reference, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. Sean didn't know how correct he really was. She opened her mouth to thank him again, when Dr. Pike's annoyed voice floated through the half open doorway.

"Dr. Isles? We have a lot to get through today..."

Sean gave her a sympathetic look. "Give 'm hell, Doc."

She smiled at him, before heading out the door. Give 'm hell. Yes. She would.

* * *

**AN2: Thoughts? Good cookie recipes? **


	32. Chapter 32

It's a bit shorter than usual, but I think y'all will be pleased...

* * *

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Jane glanced once more at the clock before flipping the engine off. 6:22 stared tauntingly back at her. She was so late. Ridiculously late. Her mother was going to kill her. If Maura didn't do it first. The ME had a thing about being on time. Punctuality. Jane scoffed to herself as she stepped out onto the asphalt and headed for the front door. Who could seriously be on schedule _all _the time? It was absurd.

She swung her head around to check the street just as she reached the front steps. Frankie's cruiser was parked across from the driveway, Tommy's old beater behind it. Shit. So late. Heaving a sigh, she straightened her spine. If she was going to get her ass handed to her by the two women, the least she could do was take it with a bit of backbone. And she _was_ going to get yelled at. She always did.

She growled to herself, pausing with her hand on the knob. It wasn't her fault that she was late. Cavenaugh may have told Maura that it was totally cool for Jane to take three half days a week for a month in a row, but what that really translated to was 16 days straight when Maura was on her two week "break" period. Ten days into it, with two open cases, she was dragging. She tried to remember what she'd eaten that day, but all her mind could come up with was 4 cups of coffee - black - and a stale donut out of Korsak's stash in his desk. Her stomach grumbled at the reminder. Might as well face the firing squad. She took one last deep breath and opened the door.

Immediately, she was hit in the face by the most delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, quickly followed by her mother's voice screeching from an unseen location, "Jane Clementine Rizzoli!"

_Shit. _So late.

"You better have a good reason for being two hours late, young lady."

Jane hadn't been a 'young lady' for fifteen years. She rolled her eyes as she kicked off her boots and then bent to put them neatly in the hall closet. Unclipping her badge, she slid it, and her gun into the drawer and then followed the smells and the yelling.

"Jesus, Ma, I'm only," she looked over at the clock on the oven, and decided it was better not to complete that statement.

"You could have called," her mother was annoyed.

"Sorry," Jane mumbled, glancing at her brothers who were both seated at the island counter. They were smirking at her. She wanted to punch them.

"Well," Angela finally turned from her spot at the stove and gave her daughter a quick look up and down. "Are Barry and Vince with you?"

"Ten minutes behind me," Jane was quick to answer, trying for a properly apologetic expression.

"Hmph," the older woman turned back to her pots and pans and stirred something. "Good then."

"Beer, Janie?" Frankie asked, standing.

"Please," it was almost a prayer.

She took the one he got from the fridge gratefully, but before she could open it, she realized someone was missing. "Where's Maura?"

Maura had had a rough go of it the past few days. The blonde was still trying to transition from being the chief medical examiner for the entire state of Massachusetts to a stay at home grown adult with a serious illness. She refused to use the term invalid, and Jane had agreed. She wasn't an invalid. She was strong and tough and she refused to give in. But it had been challenging for her to watch Jane leave for the brick every morning and not be going, too. Jane knew she'd been trying to keep busy, working with the governor to find a more suitable _temporary _replacement, reading up on gliomas. Trying to memorize all of Angela Rizzoli's recipes. But Jane also knew that it wasn't easy for her. She tired easily. Her headaches seemed to have gotten worse, and she struggled simply going up and down the stairs. It was ridiculous how quickly her body had weakened under the attack of the cancerous cells. Ridiculous and terrifying.

The detective had stopped her daily runs for several days because she felt bad about participating in such a lively and energetic act of exercise. Maura had not been pleased when she'd finally figured out. She'd insisted that Jane continue them, whether in the morning or on the brunette's lunch break. And Jane had to admit that it did feel good to get out and burn off some of the stress and tension that built up throughout the day. Running, although something she'd always professed to hate, was quickly becoming her salvation. Maura swore by her yoga and deep meditation breathing and whatnot, but Jane preferred the pounding of her feet against the pavement, the monotony and near agony of a long run serving to drive any conscious thought clean out of her head. So, she held onto the routine, even if she felt guilty afterwards, thinking of Maura tiring after simply showering and making breakfast.

"She went upstairs to freshen up," her mother's voice jerked her back to the present. "But, that was awhile ago," Angela looked dubiously towards the staircase.

"Almost an hour," Tommy observed.

Jane frowned. "I'll be right back then," she set the untouched beverage onto the counter.

"Dinner as soon as Barry and Sergeant Korsak get here!" her mother yelled at her retreating figure and Jane nodded to show her understanding.

Throughout the past ten days, they'd tried to find some sort of balance. Jane would get up early to run, go to work, chase down the bad guys, while Maura worked from home. The detective would try to scoot out as early as possible everyday in order to make it home in time for dinner, but more often than not, Maura would be forced to keep something warm for her. Then, they'd spend the evening chatting, watching a movie, cuddling. It was domestic. If anyone would have told Jane Rizzoli that she'd be settled down, for all intents and purposes playing house by the time October rolled around, she would have scoffed at them, or hit them. It was never a role she'd seen for herself.

Her mother had tried foisting men on her for years and years, but she'd always found something wrong with them or lacking. They'd either want her to hang her handcuffs up for good, "take less risks," be home to put dinner on the table and clean the house and pop out a couple of kids. Which was _not _in her plan. Or else they wanted her to use her cuffs...on them. After awhile she'd simply accepted the fact that her mother's dreams of a white wedding and grandchildren would never reach the actual physical stage. And she'd been fine with that.

Gabriel Dean had thrown a bit of a monkey wrench into her acceptance. She'd almost thought, for one minute, that he was different, that there might be a future with him. But then the warehouse happened and that relationship went up in flames, too.

With Maura though, it was different. Even now that Maura wasn't working, Jane didn't think of them as anything less than equals. They were both strong, independent women, and it worked for them. Maura accepted the dangers of Jane's job. She never asked (or ordered) the detective to stay out of the line of fire, simply to take care. She accepted Jane's flaws. Her overbearing and loud nature, her energy, her temper. She had a way of smoothing out the brunette's rough edges with Jane even being aware that it was happening until after she'd already changed.

Jane found herself going a bit soft around the doctor; her mother would classify it as 'lovey-dovey' if she knew. The woman seemed to have some sort of crazy calming effect on her. For example, the amount of time she spent thinking about Maura, texting her, _thinking _about texting her was insane. She'd gotten so used to spending all day with Maura, or at least close enough that the doctor was only an elevator ride away, that knowing the ME wasn't just down in the morgue made the building seem almost empty. She'd felt kind of pathetic about it at first, like some sort of crazy, overdramatic, lov-well, not that word - teenager who couldn't handle to be separated from her girlfriend for a few measly hours a day. But when she realized that Maura was just as happy to see her in the evenings as she was to get home, that the doctor's text messages were quite a bit longer and more detailed than they used to be, that neither one of them minded curling up on the couch, forgotten movie providing background noise while they took the time to reacquaint themselves with one another's faces and lips and bone structure, she stopped feeling lame. Instead, she tried to enjoy it. She was falling in love. She was _in _love. And she was going to soak it all in if it killed her.

Part of why she was so nervous to let others know about their blossoming relationship was because she was afraid they would pick up on some of her new mannerisms. She didn't want to be the fluttery girl in love for the first time, but it was becoming more and more difficult to stifle her need to shout her love for Maura from the rooftops. Frost had caught her giggling over a text more than once, and she'd had to forcefully remove the exaggerated grin from her face when Maura had her favorite lunch delivered as a surprise. She _was _a teenager, head over heels in love, as much as she tried to ignore the existence of that four letter word. And she secretly adored it.

So, she allowed herself the joy of reveling in Maura's undivided attention in the evenings, and tried not to think about the daylight hours when she was separated from the honey blonde. The doctor would ask about her day, and Jane would bring her up to speed, trying to recall all of the minuscule details, and of course whatever idiotic thing Pike had spouted that afternoon. Usually, Maura fell asleep early, laying on the couch, spooned against the brunette's firm frame. Jane would carry her to bed, and that would be that, until the next morning, when they'd do it all again.

Jane bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, thinking back on the past few days, how their relationship was growing, strengthening. She felt safe with Maura. Secure. Something she'd never had in any of her previous relationships. A new role she had adopted.

As her foot hit the landing, she began to puzzle out why Maura had been upstairs for over an hour. Freshen up? Since when did Maura take such a long time to get ready for Sunday dinner. Sure, she could be a bit of a stickler when it came to her appearance, but an hour? Just for the family? Jane was skeptical. Even a tiny bit worried. The little thread of anxiety pushed her towards the master bedroom and attached bath that much more quickly. If anything had been wrong, Maura would have called out, she would have texted Jane to come home early. Wouldn't she've?

Jane blew through the door. No one in the bedroom. Closet light was off. So the blonde wasn't engaged in one of her ridiculously long, thought out wardrobe changes. Shrugging out of her own jacket, the detective headed towards the bathroom, where a thin bar of light was glowing from beneath the door.

"Maura?" She knocked softly. No answer. "Maur, can I come in?"

Still no response, but she heard a slight sniffling sound, so she turned the knob and stepped in. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Maura sitting on the edge of the tub, dressed in yoga pants and a loose fitting white t-shirt, a brush in one hand, the other clasping something she couldn't make out. The honey blonde had tears running down her face. She looked skinny and tired and small. She was lovely.

Maura rubbed at her face quickly and looked up at Jane. She gave a light laugh, but choked off the end of it. Jane didn't move any closer. She waited.

The other woman held up her hand, and Jane saw what it was she was clutching. Hair. Beautiful golden strands.

"I knew it was a possibility," Maura said, her voice husky from crying, staring down at the tiled floor. "I just didn't realize how melancholy it would make me. I wasn't amply prepared. They say it can be one of the most challenging hurdles."

"Maur," Jane whispered. The doctor's voice sounded colder than usual. Clinical.

"A common side effect of course. One I should be able to handle without crying. But, I guess not!" She shrugged her shoulders regretfully and glanced up Jane at again. "Whoops."

If Jane didn't know any better, she might think Maura was drunk. "I'm sorry," she tried for lack of anything else to say.

"Oh god," and Maura leaned over, wrapping her arms around herself. "You must think I'm pathetic."

Jane shook her head no, but the doctor wasn't looking at her.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with this. With me," Maura bit off. It's the first time she's showed any anger over her situation, any disgust. Jane is almost relieved. Maura's simply acceptance has been infuriating.

"No," Jane is firm.

"Crying over some dead cells. That's all hair is, you know! Dead cells," the blonde's voice is getting louder, tinged with a hint of hysteria. Jane wants to go to her, to hold her close, but she can't move. "I'm pathetic."

"No," louder this time.

"You must hate me."

Jane rolls her shoulders back in defiance. Maura is wrong. She's so incorrect. She doesn't even see how perfect she is, even now, red faced from crying, angry with herself, shattered. "I don't hate you," but it's so soft, she isn't sure Maura's heard. "I don't hate you," she repeated, making sure the words carried across the expanse of the room.

Maura looked up at that. She tilted her head to the side as if to determine if Jane was telling the truth. "You don't?"

"I-I," Oh, God. Maura's hazel eyes were shiny with unshed tears, her lips were trembling slightly. Jane couldn't stand it. She can't - "I love you." It's fast, hurried, nearly apologetic. Jane wanted to clap her hand over her fool mouth as soon as the words left her lips, but instead she stood stock still, staring at the smaller woman. "I love you," she said again. But Maura was shaking her head now, shaking her head no. "I love you," Jane took a step forward. "You're beautiful, and I love you." It's like vomit. She can't control it.

"You can't. You can't," Maura denied fiercely.

"I do," and Jane can feel herself grinning.

"Take it back," the doctor ordered.

Jane took another step forward, another, gliding across the floor until she was looking down at the hunched form of the doctor. She needed Maura to understand. She needed her to accept it. She didn't even care that the doctor hadn't said it back yet. She was glowing. Finally. Finally! She'd never been so sure of anything in her life. She wanted to laugh out loud at how easy it was. She'd been agonizing over something that was the simplest thing in the world for far too long. "I love you, Maura Isles. I won't take it back."

"You can't l-lo-love me," she tripped over the word. "I'm sick."

Jane shrugged. "So. I love you."

"It's a phase, an emotional reaction to the stress you've been under."

Jane wanted to laugh. How was Maura not getting this? "No."

"You can't because I-I-I'm unlovable!"

Jane nearly cried out at the words. She bent her knees so she was crouching in front of the blonde. She took the hair brush and set it on the floor, then she wrapped Maura's small hands in her own. "No," she repeated gently. "I love you."

"Jane," it was a breath.

"You don't have to say it back, not if you don't want to, but you do need to understand. I love you. You _are _lovable. You are wonderful and strong, and I love you. And I will continue to love even if all your hair falls out and you are bald. I will still love you." She brushed a strand of blonde curl off of Maura's cheek. "I love you." She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the ME's pink lips.

Maura didn't speak, and Jane could feel her heart expanding with all the love she was feeling. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd told someone who was not family that she loved them. And she'd never been the first in a relationship. She wanted Maura to respond in kind, she ached to hear those words fall from the doctor's mouth, but it wouldn't change anything. "I love you." She couldn't take it back, couldn't erase it. The truth was out there. The truth will set you free. Someone had said that, someone famous, someone wise. She felt free. God, she felt like she was flying.

Maura was staring at her, trying to read whatever was written across her face. Jane waited patiently. "It's not an emotional reaction?"

Jane did let out a snort of laughter then. "Definately not."

"You're sure?" The innocence of the question, the heartbreak, the hope would have killed her right then and there if she wasn't a hundred miles off the ground.

"I have never, _never _been more terrified, or more sure of anything in my entire life." She smiled at the other woman and gave her cold hands a squeeze.

"You love me?"

"I do."

"Oh good," Maura finally breathed out, and Jane felt curiosity flicker across her face. "Because I love you, too. And I was afraid to say something, Jane. I didn't want to scare you off. I know how you are with your relationships." She was rambling. "And I was afraid it was because of the tumor, or that you were simply confused or-"

Jane kissed her. She kissed her deeply. Satisfactorily. Thankfully. When she opened her eyes again, Maura's hazel ones were shining back at her. The doctor wrapped her arms around Jane's strong shoulders and the detective stood, taking Maura with her, a hand under the doctor's legs, carrying her like a child. She walked them into the bedroom, where she laid Maura gently on the bed, climbing up after and sliding herself alongside the blonde. She pushed a hand under the other woman's shirt, resting it on Maura's warm stomach, and kissed her cheek, her ear, her nose, her mouth. "I love you. I love you. I love you," it was a mantra. A prayer. A promise.

Maura wound her hands in Jane's thick, dark curls. "I love you. I love you. I love you," it was an answer. A hope. A promise.

Jane shivered at Maura's touch, a finger tip trailing down the back of her neck, the presence of a leg pressed against her center, a warming core, her rapid heartbeat. She nuzzled into the blonde's neck, sucking gently at Maura's pulse point, loving the way Maura responded to her caress, tensing, relaxing. She wanted to show the other woman how serious she was, to make Maura understand how deeply her love ran. She needed the honey blonde. She needed her. "I love you."

"Oh, god, Jane," Maura moaned.

Jane's entire body felt as if it was on fire. She slipped her other hand beneath the smaller woman's shirt and -

A loud knock erupted from the door. "Girls? Dinner!" her mother called gaily.

"Shit," Jane nearly squealed, removing her hands immediately. Maura hissed in displeasure. "Shit, shit, shit."

Maura shushed her by taking the detective's lips in her own, pressing her tongue into Jane's mouth, biting gently on Jane's lower lip and then sucking away the pain. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too," Jane responded, pouting when Maura pushed her off and swung into a sitting position. She kissed the doctor's neck sloppily, and Maura giggled and pulled away.

"Go downstairs," the doctor ordered. "I just need to change and then I'll be down."

Now Jane really did pout. She hated her mother in that moment. But Maura shooed her away, so, grumbling she stood and made her way towards the door. "Maur?" The doctor stuck her head out of the closet. "I love you," Jane grinned.

The doctor grinned back.

"I'm sorry I was such a chicken and it took me forever to say."

Maura merely smiled. "I love you, too, Jay. Now go on. I'll be along in just a moment."

Jane slipped out the door and stood with her back against the wall, waiting for her pulse to return to normal, for the ache between her legs to recede a bit. She nearly skipped on her way downstairs. She loved Maura. Maura loved her back. Like actually. Loved. Jane wanted to sing. And she did not sing. But she could have, right at that moment. She could have.

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AN2: I'll have the next one up in a jiffy. Thank you so much for reading. Love.


	33. Chapter 33

**I am continually blown away by y'all's support and reviews and dang-a-lang. I wish there was a way for me to show you how much it means to me to know that someone else is enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying delving into it. Y'all are the best. No, but seriously. Love.**

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Maura slipped into her favorite cashmere sweater and a pair of white jeans. They slid easily up and over her curves, or lack there of these days. Once dressed, she pressed a finger to her lips, still swollen with want after Jane left to stall Angela so she could finish getting ready. Jane loved her. And it wasn't a phase or a mistake. It couldn't be a mistake. The way Maura was feeling couldn't possibly be wrong. Because all she wanted to do was tell Jane again, to see the brunette's chocolatey eyes light up in delight, in relief, to shine with love and understanding. God. She wanted Jane. She was aching for the touch of the other woman. She needed to see the detective, to feel her, to be reminded that the past fifteen minutes hadn't been a dream.

Jane said she loved her. Maura had not been able to spot any body language cues which pointed to the contrary. And she'd responded to Jane kind. And Jane _loved _her. Maura wanted to weep. She wanted to jump up and down. She laughed aloud simply from the happiness bubbling up inside her.

She'd been on a roller coaster of emotion for the entire day. Jane had gone in early for a case, leaving Maura to wake up alone and disoriented without the detective's warmth cradling her. Jane had been working nonstop lately, and Maura had found it difficult being separated from Jane for so many hours a day. She missed her job, her work. She'd always found such satisfaction in helping to close a case, in acting as the voice for those who'd lost their's prematurely. But, more than that, she missed seeing Jane whenever she wanted to. She missed hearing the detective's identifiable tread walking down the morgue hallway, grabbing a quick bite up in the café, heading out on a call together. She missed Jane nearly every moment of every day in a way that she'd never missed anyone else. She'd always been independent, but she found herself relying on Jane's sarcastic optimism, on her buried kindness, her silliness, her strength. It was scary how reliant she'd become on the detective's presence.

That morning, she'd been too tired after getting ready for the day to do much of anything. She'd nearly pounded her head into a wall when she realized that she couldn't make out the smaller print in a new medical journal she'd received. After Angela and Frankie arrived, she'd gone upstairs and showered and, while brushing her hair, she'd discovered that it had begun coming out in clumps. She knew there was a very high percent chance of it occurring within the first month or so after treatment, but it still came as a bit of a shock. She'd always been somewhat vain about her golden curls. And the thought of losing it made her feel like curling up into a ball and hiding under several blankets until it grew back. It was a hyperbolic reaction, but she hadn't been able to shut it down. She'd been sitting, feeling sorry for herself for perhaps the first time since her diagnosis, which made her feel even more upset, when she heard Jane bounding up the stairs.

She had wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her whole before Jane came in. It was such a ridiculous thing to be upset about. She was afraid Jane would laugh at her or not understand or, worst of all, pity her. She wouldn't have been able to stand it if she'd looked up to see pity in those big brown eyes. But it hadn't been pity. It had been love, and Jane had even said it. Over and over again, until Maura finally felt like she'd heard it. Like it was real. It might actually be happening.

She hurried through the rest of her quick routine, even going so far as to dab on a bit of lip gloss. She smiled when she realized it was for Jane's pleasure as much as for her own. Then she practically skipped to the stairs, headache all but forgotten for the time being. Taking the steps carefully, hand gripping the railing tightly, she beamed when she caught site of Jane lounging at the kitchen entrance, surreptitiously looking over her shoulder every couple of seconds, all while waving her mother's chattering off. When Jane caught her eye, the brunette tried for her signature smirk, but her face lit up in excitement instead. Maura smiled shyly back.

"Hi," Jane whispered, approaching her and squeezing her hand quickly before dropping it.

"Hi," Maura matched Jane's tone, following the brunette into the dining room, where everyone else was getting situated.

Seargent Korsak and Detective Frost were there, sitting in their normal seats. Korsak on the end, Barry in the middle, and Frankie next to him with Tommy across from his brother.

"Hey Maura."

"Dr. Isles."

"Doc," they all said in unison, nodding and smiling at her in turn.

She smiled back at them, extremely aware of Jane standing at her back, one hand nearly resting on her hip. She could feel the energy rolling off the detective, the heat. It was exhilarating.

Jane stepped around Maura and gallantly pulled the doctor's chair out for her across from Vince. Maura slid into gratefully. The high from her encounter with Jane hadn't worn off, but her body was desperately trying to remind her that she might have been overdoing it a bit in her excitement. She tried to ignore the jello-like feeling that had settled in her legs. (Jane's term, not hers.) Instead, asking the men about their respective days. Angela bustled in not too much longer, steaming dish in hand, which she set next to Maura and took the spot at the head of the table. At first, the matriarch had attempted to make Maura sit at the head of the table. It was her house after all. But the doctor had quietly and firmly insisted that this was Rizzoli family dinner, and, as such, Angela should take the spot. She'd also found herself more comfortable when she was seated next to Jane, but had deigned not to inform Angela of that reason.

Dishes were passed and conversation flowed easily around the room. Sunday dinners had been a tradition for years, although the faces had changed somewhat. Tommy had been absent for awhile during his stint in prison, but he was back now, sipping his soda and joking with his older siblings. Frank Sr. was no longer a fixture at the table. He had been conspicuously absent for several months as his children and ex-wife attempted to come to terms with his abandonment of the family. But, he was the merest flicker of memory now, never acknowledged, and hardly ever thought of at all.

Vince Korsak had been coming to dinner nearly every week ever since Hoyt happened for the first time. Jane may not have wanted to be partners with the man anymore after he'd seen her in such a weakened state, but she had no qualms about considering him an honorary family member, and neither did her mother. Maura gazed fondly at the older gentleman. He was a good man. A solid, dependable, caring man. She felt lucky to know him.

Barry Frost was the newest addition, but even he had been attending these family get togethers for well over a year. It always took Jane awhile to warm up to people; her tough exterior could be difficult to break through. So, Barry had had his work cut out for him, but he'd come through. Maura realized that she'd gotten caught staring at him in thought and she returned his understanding smile with one of her own. He was the perfect partner for Jane. Cool to her fiery, intelligent, logical, and willing to learn. In many ways, Maura pondered, she and Detective Frost were quite a bit alike. She was not displeased to realize it.

Maura nearly jumped when she felt Jane's touch on her thigh. "Where'd you go?" the detective whispered, leaning over so she could murmur in Maura's ear. Her voice tickled and the blonde had to hold back a gasp.

She shook her head to dislodge the sudden desire coursing through her veins. She could feel herself blushing, the blood rushing to fill the capillaries in her cheeks. "No where," she answered. "I'm right here," and she reached a hand under the table to thread Jane's long finger hand into her own.

"Love you," the detective said so softly, Maura thought she might have imagined it. Jane's family was sitting right there; what if they overheard? She wasn't sure that the detective would be alright with them learning about their relationship simply because they'd reached the 'I love you' stage. Although she herself didn't care one way or another if they found out anymore. It would be quite a bit easier if she was allowed to hold Jane's hand in public, or touch her arm gently in a gesture that was more than platonic.

Maura turned her head to try and catch Jane's eye to determine whether or not she'd heard correctly, but the brunette had already looked away, teasing Frankie about some mishap at work. The moment was gone, but Maura was left behind, tingling. She'd never felt this way during a relationship before: like she might take flight at any moment, as though Jane was the only thing tethering her to solid ground, like she might stop breathing if the other woman were to disappear for longer than a moment, like she could hardly breathe when Jane so much as looked at her.

"Maura, honey." The ME snapped her head around to look at Angela, and nearly groaned at the sudden pounding at the base of her skull. Sudden movements were to be avoided at all costs. "Are you alright?" Angela asked, seeing her face turn pale, and Maura felt Jane's hand on her leg, a questioning touch.

"I'm fine, Angela, thank you." She abhorred that question. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, I was just wondering if your parents might be visiting soon?"

"M-my parents?" The doctor was thrown by the question, but the older woman was nodding enthusiastically.

"I was thinking maybe we ought to invite them for Thanksgiving..."

"Thanksgiving is a month away, Ma," Jane groaned.

"But, you want to make sure they don't make other plans," the mother was looking hopefully at her children. "I'm sure they would want to spend the holiday here, with you, if they, that is, if they kne-"

"Ma," Jane barked out, silencing her mother.

Maura wanted to sink into her chair. It was wonderful that the detective was sticking up for her, protecting her, but it was horrifying at the same time because she knew that Jane actually agreed with her mother on this topic. Maura still refused to call her parents, to inform that she was ill, that it was not good news. She had lived her entire life aching for her parents' attention, but now that there was the opportunity for it, she didn't want it. Not when it wasn't pleasant information to share. Not when they might descend on Boston in a hurry, making her flustered and ill at ease, or worse, something she didn't want to contemplate but knew was a distinct possibility, they might not come at all. It may not be important enough to warrant their attention. She was unsure, and therefore unwilling to risk it. They didn't _need _to know. Not yet. She'd only undergone one cycle so far.

Jane had insisted when the chemotherapy treatments began that she get in touch with Constance and her father, but Maura had refused then and she continued to do so, although the detective had not brought it up quite so forcefully again. Instead, the brunette slipped in random statements and suggestions every once in awhile, urging Maura to call them, but the medical examiner didn't want to, and so the call was never made.

To hear Jane defending her now sent a rush of embarrassment tempered by warmth through her system. It was love, she now knew, love that caused Jane to protect her, even from Angela Rizzoli. Love that made her forgo her own opinions and desires simply to see that Maura was well looked after. Love. Maura had never understood it before, but she felt that she might be able to. Now that Jane loved her. She might be able to.

"I'm going to get dessert. Anybody need anything?" Jane asked the table, sounding slightly flustered.

Everyone shook their heads, avoiding her hard eyed gaze. Angela's lips were pursed in unhappiness, but she didn't speak.

"Maur, need anything?" Jane asked specifically, leaning closer so her breast was pushed into Maura's shoulder. The medical examiner's breath caught in her chest.

"N-No," she managed. She caught Angela's eye and blushed slightly.

"Alright," Jane paused, half raised from her sitting position. Maura looked sideways at her and watched as Jane swept her gaze around the table. Korsak had just made a joke at Barry's expense and all of the boys were laughing, but Angela was still watching the two of them. The matriarch cocked her head to the side when Jane's eyes passed over her. Jane paused there for a moment and the two women stared at each other. Maura was confused, especially when she saw Jane give her mother a half smile and a shrug.

"Alright then," the detective said, seeming to come back to herself. She looked once more at her mother, and then leaned over and pressed her lips softly to Maura's cheek, bringing their conjoined hands from beneath the table before letting go.

Maura nearly stopped breathing. What was Jane doing? There was a pause from the teasing conversation going on across the table. Maura could feel the men's eyes on the two of them. She didn't look though, because Jane wasn't. The brunette was holding her gaze seriously. And Maura understood. Jane loved her. And she loved Jane. And so it did not matter if the rest of the family knew about their relationship. It hardly mattered if they cared at all. Because the two of them were in love. And this was Jane's way of showing her, of promising her...so many many things. Jane, who was flighty and unsure and usually hesitant to commit, was committing to her, to Maura, with this one simple act. The blonde felt her heart swell with pride at her detective. Her detective. Yes.

So, when Jane squeezed her fingers once more before letting go and heading for the kitchen, Maura felt herself blushing, even though the conversation had resumed as if nothing had happened. Maura looked up to find Angela Rizzoli watching her. She gave the matriarch a hesitant smile, but was rewarded only with a blank look before the older woman stood abruptly, and without a word, set her path for the kitchen, following her daughter's footsteps.

Maura slumped slightly in her chair. The doctor had never experienced a romantic partner's coming out, and therefore was not the proper judge of such things, but she couldn't help feeling rejected at Mrs. Rizzoli's blank look. She looked over at Tommy, and grimaced. He, too, did not appear overly enthused. She thought he'd gotten over his crush on her, but perhaps he hadn't.

"Tommy," she said softly, but all four of them looked over at her. She blushed again. "I-I'm -" she was going to say that she was sorry, offer an apology, until she realized that she didn't have anything to apologize for. She had been polite to Tommy. She'd explained to him already that she did not entertain any romantic feelings. And it was not entirely her fault that she'd only finally figured out her emotions for Jane and that Jane just happened to be his older sister. So, she paused. And was surprised when Frankie grinned at her.

He slapped his brother on the back. "We're happy for you guys, aren't we Tommy?"

Tommy paused, seeming to consider, and then his body shifted slightly, his back straightened imperceptibly, and his facial muscles relaxed. Maura wanted to heave a sigh of relief. "Sure, we are."

Frost and Vince were smiling as well, and Maura gave them all a tremulous grin. "Well, it's still relatively new," she explained.

"Just...how new?" Frankie inquired slyly.

Maura pondered how to answer the question. One day? A month?

But he seemed to take her silence for offense, because he was quick to add, "Just, I mean, relatively, cause we, well, we, and some of the other guys, not just us, we might have bet-" Frost elbowed him in the side and Frankie stopped speaking with an oomph.

Maura's eyes widened. Bet? They had bet on her and Jane? About what? "About what?" she repeated aloud.

Barry rolled his eyes, "Great," he muttered. "She's gonna tell Jane you idiot," he growled at Frankie.

"So what," Frankie gestured, "She would have anyway."

Maura was looking confusedly between the two men. "You bet on us?" Us. That sounded wonderful.

"Well," Barry rubbed the back of his neck.

They were uncomfortable. "You know gambling has been a popular form of stress relief for centuries," she began.

Frost jumped in to cut her off before she could begin the history of gambling. "We bet on when you two would get together, like together together," he emphasized. "And on when you'd come clean, an-and stuff like that."

"Oh," Maura didn't know how to respond. Jane would probably be upset. She usually was when she found out the guys were thinking too much about her personal life, but Maura didn't really mind. It simply meant they were interested, that they cared. At least, she knew that the four in front of her cared. They would never do anything to intentionally hurt Jane. She wondered idly if that care extended as completely to her.

"But nothing too serious or anything, and only a few people. Not any douchebags or idiots or whatever," Frankie looked nervous, too.

"Well, I-" And then the thought occurred to her. They'd bet on them, on her and Jane, _before _they knew about the relationship. So that meant... "How did you know?"

"What?" Frost stared at her.

"You must have known, or at least seen something that we, that Jane and I missed. Did we miss it?"

Vince reached across and patted her on the hand in a fatherly gesture, "Sometimes we miss the stuff that's right in front of us."

"Yes, I-I suppose," Maura looked back down at her plate in confusion. How long had she missed it? There must have been signs. None of the men were specifically trained in body language analysis. So it must have been fairly obvious. Not that they were unintelligent, just that Maura was aware of her IQ score, of her genius level status. She didn't brag; it was simply a fact. She could feel her headache building. So whatever must have happened between her and Jane while they were still only friends must have been easy enough for nearly anyone to spot. "Angela," she breathed, looking fearfully toward the kitchen.

"I think she knew," Frankie mused, following her gaze. "At least, subconsciously or whatever. We did. And she isn't blind."

"No," Maura agreed softly.

"Maura."

The medical examiner looked at Tommy, squinting slightly. His face was blurrier than it had been a moment before. "She won't care. At least, I don't think she won't," he looked dubiously at his brother. "I mean she still loves me, and I went to prison! So..." he trailed off.

"Right," Maura said softly again. "Okay." They all lapsed into silence, looking thoughtfully over at each other. She wanted to go to the kitchen, to follow Jane and her mother, to determine whether or not she had just had a hand in driving a wedge between the daughter and mother duo. She didn't think so. Angela was a mother first, whatever her church taught her or her conservative values inherited from her parents and the society that raised her said. She was a mother first. Maura simply needed to trust in that bond. A bond she hadn't had much positive experience with, true, but over the past few years, Angela had become a bit of a surrogate mother for the doctor. And even after the warehouse, after Paddy Doyle, and the fight, Angela had accepted her, had told her she loved her. So she would continue to love Jane no matter what, not even this, because she was Jane's mother and Angela Rizzoli was a mother to her core. Maura began to practice her deep breathing techniques inherited from her years of yoga. She wasn't going to be able to completely relax until Jane returned, unscathed from the kitchen.

* * *

Jane took her time getting the dessert out of the fridge. Homemade banana creme pie. She removed the cover slowly, waiting, and yup, there it was, the telltale click of her mother's shoes on the hardwood floor. "Ma," she said calmly, facing away from her mother.

Angela didn't speak for a moment and Jane wondered what sort of talking to she was in for. It had honestly been a near spontaneous thing. Maura's perfect cheek had been there, simply asking to be kissed, and Maura loved her, so who cared. Jane hadn't really thought it all through. She'd let her gut lead. She laughed silently to herself. Maura hated it when Jane credited her gut. An organ couldn't be logical, couldn't make decisions.

"What is so funny?" her mother's sharp words cut through her daydreams.

Jane sighed. Shit. "Ma," she turned around, ready for whatever battle was about to take place. Instead, she was greeted with the image of her mother, hands on hips, a wide grin splitting her features. "Ma?" It was a question this time.

"Oh, Janie!" And the squeal nearly caused her to go deaf right then and there. Her mother stepped forward and swept her up into a hug. Jane couldn't have escaped the tidal wave force if she'd tried. "When were you going to tell us?" Her mother finally let go and took a step back. The older woman was practically bouncing in her place, her hands clasped together in joy, a light shining in her eye that Jane had never seen.

"Jesus, you're more excited than I am," Jane grumbled, unsure how to respond to her mother's enthusiasm. This had not been a projected scenario.

"Oh shut up," Angela quipped, and Jane's jaw nearly dropped. "You love her!"

Now how did Angela know that? It'd just been a kiss on the cheek.

"I wasn't sure when you started sleeping over every night," Jane threw up her hands. Of course her mother knew about that. "Since you drove separately and tried to pretend like it wasn't happening. But with the diagnosis, and oh, Janie. You know I've always been afraid you wouldn't find someone. You're so difficult and hard to get to know. I pretty much gave up on making you suitable, but I'm just so happy for you. Both of you."

"Well, uh, thanks...I guess." Jane thought there might have been a compliment in there somewhere. Maybe.

"And you're just glowing! Both of you. Like lovebirds," Angela clapped her hands together delightedly.

Jane groaned. "Ma, jesus. It's pretty new okay. We've been taking it slow." Jane reached forward and took her mother by the elbows, "So, just, calm down, alright?"

The shorter woman pouted slightly. "I just can tell you're so happy, even with," she waved her hands in the air, "the stuff that's going on. And all I want is for you to be happy, baby."

"I'm happy, Ma. Okay? This is me being happy," Jane smiled at her mother.

Angela put a hand on her daughter's cheek for a moment. "And a doctor, too!" She yelped, jumping back into motion.

"And there we go again," Jane muttered, watching the older woman whisk around the kitchen collecting dessert plates and forks, chattering on all the while.

"Well, you just have to tell me everything of course! When did you two make it official?" Jane rolled her eyes at the air quotes. "Does anyone else know? Of course you'd tell the family first right? You've moved in officially already right? I mean, you've practically been living here since the two of you got over your little...hmmm..spat. Maura just looks so happy. I haven't seen her glow like that, well, ever, I don't think. Not even when that Ian fellow was in town. You know, I never did like him. When's the wedding? A fall wedding? It would be so lovely. And, oh you two are going to have such _wonderful _babies! Adopted or surrogate or whatever you choos-"

"Ma!" Jane had had enough. "Can you just - just slow down for a minute okay. I mean jesus!" Jane ran a hand through her curls in agitation. Babies. Marriage. Jesus. "We've got other things to deal with right now. I mean Maura is-i-i-is _sick. _Like really sick. And it might not seem like it right now, tonight, but she is. Everyday. And until she gets better, there won't be any talk of weddings or-o-or children or anything! Okay?!" Jane didn't realize how loud she'd gotten until she stopped and could hear the echo reverberate in the sudden silence.

She attempted to rearrange her features into a properly contrite expression. "I'm sorry, Ma. Okay? I'm sorry. It's just a lot to deal with, and we're trying to take it one step at a time."

"Of course. Of course, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

Jane looked up in surprise. Her mother didn't apologize. Not ever. But Angela was smiling sadly at her. "I'm just happy for both of you. Is it alright that I'm happy?"

"Sure. Yeah. Of course, Ma. Just don't, like, break out in song or whatever," Jane tried to joke. Angela pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back gently.

"Alright, Janie. Alright."

Her mother finished getting the dessert things together and headed back into the dining room, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts. The detective turned to face the sink, and mindlessly turned on the hot water, dribbled some dish soap onto the available scrubby and started washing the pans used to make dinner. She hated doing dishes. It used to be that Maura would clean up after dinner, insisting that Angela not lift a finger seeing as how she had cooked. But now, it had fallen on Jane. Usually, she'd rope the guys into doing it, until Angela griped that they'd probably drop a plate or start a soap fight, in which case Jane would find herself up to her elbows in scalding, greasy dishwater. She hated cleaning.

But right now, she needed the mindless task, needed something to keep her from thinking about all the things her mother had just said, all the things Jane hadn't even thought about yet but were now vying for her attention. First thing was first. They had to get Maura well again. They had to get her past this. And they would. Jane would. She was adamant that a tumor wouldn't be the one thing that brought Dr. Maura Dorothea Isles to her knees. Not while she was on duty. So Jane scrubbed pots and pans, over and over and over, until even Maura would have been amazed at their cleanliness. And she didn't hear the shouts of laughter echoing from the dining room, and she didn't notice when her mother brought in the rest of the dishes and set them in the sink beside her. She didn't hear the dinner party move into the living room, or the game getting turned on. She stared grimly at her angry red hands, ignoring the pain of the burning hot water, and she focused instead on how they would beat Maura's tumor to the ground. How they would wipe it out of existence. How it would be as if it had never disrupted their lives in the first place, never made Maura's beautiful hazel eyes blur or her perfect blonde curls fall out, never flipped them all upside down and inside out trying to defeat something that didn't even have a brain. She scrubbed and she fought until she reached into the suds and came up empty handed.

Sighing, she drained the water then leaned her arms against the counter and leaned over, breathing deeply, trying to relax her tense muscles. Sounds began to filter in. The highlights of the game now being replaying on ESPN, the sound of her mother saying good night to someone: Vince, Frankie's deep voice emanating from the living room, Tommy's laugh. She glanced at the clock. Shit. It'd gotten late and she hadn't even noticed. She had to work bright and early in the morning.

Jane walked quietly into the living room, and took in the view of her family spread out on all the furniture. Tommy and Frankie were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table like little kids, Frost was in the armchair and her mother was on one end of the couch. Maura was on the other. They were all focused on the game, and as she watched, Tommy leaned over and socked his older brother on the arm. Frankie punched him back good naturedly. Jane nearly laughed at the sight. It was home. She felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to find Maura watching her under a heavy lidded gaze. The medical examiner was curled up under a blanket looking absolutely adorable, and almost perfectly content. She reached one arm out from her warm nest and held it lazily in the air, a gesture for Jane to approach.

The brunette stepped around the couch and scooted up next to Maura, lifting up the blanket so she could cuddle closer. Maura switched directions so she was leaning mostly on Jane, her blonde curls fanning out over the taller woman's shoulder and chest. No one commented on the closeness. Jane almost laughed with relief. They honestly didn't care.

"Tired?" Jane whispered for Maura's ears alone.

She felt the doctor nod.

"Bed?" the brunette asked.

Maura shook her head no. "Alright?" And it was _let's stay up with the family please, i'm so comfortable, don't make me move, hold me, you okay? you were in the kitchen an awfully long time. your mother, i think she approves? she loves you. **i** love you. i love you. i love you. _

"Yes. Alright."


	34. Chapter 34

Maura jerked awake suddenly, surprised to find herself pushed to one edge of the cold sheets. She rolled over, towards where she vaguely remembered there was a source of warmth. It was the whimper that clued her in to what had woken her up in the first place. "Jay?" she mumbled.

Another whimper.

"Jay?"

A moan. "Maura," pulled out of the other woman as if she were being tortured. "Please."

"Jane," she was awake now. She forced her eyes to open fully. Nightmare. It kept repeating. Nightmare. Nightmare. Nightmare. Have to get to Jane. She battled the fuzziness numbing her brain.

"Come back. Maur. Please," it was terrifying: the whimper.

"Jane, honey," Maura scooted over until she found Jane's body. "Sweetheart wake up."

The taller woman thrashed beneath her touch. "No. No. No. No."

Maura sat up. There was moonlight slanting through the window. She could just barely make out the other woman's features scrunched up in agony. Her face a rictus of terror. "Please," louder this time. Begging.

"Sweetie. Wake up." Maura rubbed the other woman's arm soothingly. No change. "Wake up, Jay." There were tears running down Jane's pale cheeks, glistening in the silver light. She struggled in the sheets. "Please, wake up." And Maura found that she was crying, too.

"Don't leave me. Maura. Don't. Please. Please."

"I'm here. Baby, I'm here." Maura couldn't stand it. She rolled over and lifted herself up on her arms, situating herself above the sleeping woman, and gently, slowly, slowly, whispering all the while, she lowered herself onto her detective, laying her body out along the top of Jane, fitting herself into the brunette's curves, her angles, her planes.

Jane thrashed for a moment until Maura released herself, placing all of her weight onto the other woman. "Jay, please wake up. I'm right here. I'm here, sweetheart. Wake up. Open your eyes pretty girl. Come back to me. I'm right here." She kissed the tears from Jane's cheeks. Over and over, until her lips were salty with the taste of Jane.

"Maura. Maura." The brunette took the other woman's lips in her, kissing until she was breathless. "Maura. Maura," and suddenly Jane was kissing her back, she was kissing back and Maura knew that she was waking up.

"Jane. Jay. Sweetie. I'm here."

"Maura. Please."

"I'm here. Look at me. Look at me, sweetheart." Maura pulled far enough away that she could make out Jane's deep brown eyes, black now in the darkness, staring back at her, the fog of the nightmare still hanging on to the edges of her consciousness. The detective's eyes were flicking back and forth, studying her face frantically, her hands running up and down the doctor's back, down her arms, back to her back. Her lips moved silently and Maura knew that she was counting, counting the bones of the medical examiner's spine.

Maura nodded. "Yes. Here I am. See, pretty girl."

But, Jane shook her head no, tears still wet on her face.

"T6. T7. T8." And finally Maura felt the tension leaving the body beneath her so that she, herself can also relax. Up and down they go. Up and down. Until Jane's hand stills. Maura's eyes were growing heavy again. "I'm here," she whispered.

"Don't leave," Jane spoke. She whispered. Whimpered.

"No. I won't. I love you." Maura leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Jane's lips, waiting there patiently until Jane returned it. "I love you. I'm here." She wrapped her arms around her detective's thin waist and rested her head in the crook of Jane's neck, feeling the strong pulse hiding just beneath the skin. "I love you," and Jane shivered at the warm breath against her ear. "I love you."

* * *

"Mmmm," Jane snuggled closer to the warm body beside her. "Don't wanna get up," she mumbled.

Maura laughed softly, curling a long brown curl around her finger. "If you don't get up now, you're going to be late."

"Just wannastay in bed wif you all day," the detective slurred.

"No, no. You're already leaving early," and with that, the sleepy morning air was rent apart.

Jane pushed herself away from the other woman and sat up. She looked properly abashed when she saw Maura's sad face. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to waiting lips. "I hate today," she murmured, "but I love you."

"Love you, too," the doctor managed to make out between kisses. "Now go get ready. I'd rather not have to deflect an angry phone call from Lt. Cavenaugh this early in the day."

Jane groaned, but rolled over and out of bed in one swift motion. "17 days in a row. What does he think I am? Some sorta energizer bunny."

Maura cocked her head curiously.

"We need to work on your pop culture references. Energizer. Like the battery. The commercials all have this annoying bunny in them. Nevermind." Jane sighed good naturedly, swooping in for one more kiss, "You're beautiful," before making her way around the bed to the bathroom.

Maura considered getting up for all of about two seconds, but instead curled up in the warm cocoon left behind by her partner. She inhaled the scent of Jane pressed into the detective's pillow, and smiled slightly as she drifted back off into sleep.

She was woken once more by soft lips caressing her cheek. She gave an unintelligible moan and fluttered her eyelashes to show she was at least partly conscious. "I'll be here at 1:15 to pick you up," Jane said.

"Mmkay," Maura agreed.

"Try and rest today, please." She could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her detective.

"I love you," she murmured, managing to crack open an eye. Jane was bent over, dressed, jacket on, travel mug in hand. She must have come all the way back upstairs to say goodbye. Maura would have melted if she was capable of it. "I love you," she said again, stronger.

Jane didn't respond, merely looked at her fondly, lovingly. "I'll see you this afternoon." One last peck and she was gone, taking her strength with her.

* * *

"Big day, huh," Frost's unassuming comment brought out of her reverie.

"Yeah," she grunted in return.

"Maura ready?"

"Yeah," again. She didn't really want to talk about it.

But, for some reason Frost was acting particularly thick today. "You leaving early?"

"Yes," she ground out through gritted teeth, staring at her computer screen and wondering why he wouldn't let it go. Frost was usually good at shit like that.

"Jane," and she saw his shoes next to his desk.

Glancing up warily, she made eye contact.

"Are _you _ready?"

"Jesus, what is this? Some type of therapy shit? Is the department paying you for this crap?" she asked angrily, not caring that her harsh words were uncalled for, not caring that she was channeling all her anxiety into someone who definitely didn't deserve it.

But, Frost merely looked at her solemnly.

"Jesus, Frost! I'm fine alright. It's not like I'm the one having who knows what kinda chemicals pumped into my system today."

He shrugged. "It's just you guys kind of know what to expect now. What with it being the second round and whatever, right?"

She bit her lip, her anger leaving her all of a sudden. That's what she'd been thankful for...and terrified about. "I guess."

He didn't reach forward to pat her on the shoulder, didn't look at her with pity in his eyes, instead he merely nodded thoughtfully and then turned back towards his own desk. "Okay."

"Frost," she called softly to him, and he paused. "Thanks, for being here." She flushed slightly, not used to making apologies, but Frost deserved it for putting up with all her crap. For being a friend to her, and to Maura.

He smiled cockily at her. "Didn't anybody tell you? I'm the best partner around. You should feel lucky to have me."

She wadded up an old piece of paper and threw it at him, but her arm wasn't in it. "I do," she said. And that was enough. He understood. They both went back to their own work. Jane tried to focus on the words swimming across the page, tried not to picture Maura at home, getting ready for a month of hell, tried instead to imagine the day when chemotherapy treatments were over and cancer no longer existed and bad guys didn't do stupid shit like kill people and she and Maura could finally, finally be happy.

* * *

"Shit," Jane swore, as she tumbled through the door. "Maur? I'm sorry I'm late! We got a call just as I was leaving!" Jane called into the house, unwilling to take off her boots. "The car's running. Are you ready to go?"

And then Maura was there in front of her, overstuffed bag on her arm.

"Here," Jane stepped forward and lifted the heavy item into her own grasp. "Ready?"

Maura nodded silently, and followed the detective out of the house, towards the waiting vehicle.

While they drove, Jane snagged glances across the center console, trying to determine whether or not Maura wanted her to speak or remain in a tense silence. Jane was feeling awkward. "So...how was your morning."

"Fine." Maura didn't look away from the window, a white knitted woolen hat pulled down low over her head. Jane tried not to think about what that hat was hiding.

"Did ma stop by?"

"Yes."

"Frost and Korsak say, 'Good luck.'"

"Okay."

They lapsed back into silence. Jane gripped the wheel tightly and focused on the road. But after pulling into a spot near the hospital doors and shutting off the engine, Jane shifted in her seat to face the medical examiner. She let out a sigh. The doctor still didn't look at her. "Well, I guess we oughta get in there." No response, not even movement to show that Maura had heard. "Maur," Jane tried softly, reaching out a hand but hovering over the detective's thin cheek.

To her surprise, Maura suddenly turned and practically lunged forward, placing her lips on Jane's in a fervent kiss. "Promise you'll still love me?" she sobbed.

"Maur. Maura!" Jane pulled away to see the other woman's face. Her heart clenched at the fear there.

"Promise you will still love me."

"Of course. Of course I will," Jane didn't understand.

"Because for the next four weeks, I am going to be weak and sick and not myself. And I don't want you to forget that that's not me. That si-sick person is not who I am. And I'm going to need you," the doctor's voice broke on the last few words. "I need you, Jay."

"Well, I'm right here," Jane murmured, pulling Maura tightly into her arms. "It's gonna be okay."

"Don't forget?"

"I won't," and it was more than a promise, if that were even possible.

"Okay," Maura heaved a deep breathe. "Goddamn it!" she exclaimed suddenly, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

Jane was more taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere than in the swear.

"I just wish I could see _you! _I mean, I can see you. My optic nerve is still transmitting images to my brain, it's just that you're-you're blurry, and I _hate _it."

Jane forced herself to laugh, "Hate's an awful strong word, Dr. Isles."

"Awfully."

"Awfully." She echoed.

"But it's the truth," and Maura peered up at her, biting her lip.

"You know, I think you're _awfully _cute when you do that."

Maura swatted her gently, and then soothed it with a quick kiss. "Don't forget?" and it was serious again.

"I won't," Jane repeated. "Now let's go. Ann is going to kill us both if we're late."

* * *

"Well, well, look at my two favorite people. And only five minutes late."

"Awww, you missed us," Jane smirked at the fiery nurse, while settling Maura in the large chair, whipping out the blanket immediately and settling it around her lover's small form. Maura smiled up at her.

"Well I certainly missed this one," Ann gave Maura's shoulder a quick pat before setting up her IV. "You on the other hand," she directed a pointed look at Jane, but winked conspiratorially at Maura.

"I'm crushed," Jane put a hand to her chest.

"Sit down," Ann ordered, "And keep your girl here company."

"Yes, Ma-"

"Ah!" The nurse held up a finger and Jane shut her mouth automatically. "What did I tell you about calling me that foul word?" She jerked her finger towards an extra chair. "Sit."

Jane grumbled, but pulled the plastic seat closer before flopping down into it.

"I'll be back in a bit to check on you," Ann said calmly to Maura, while Jane picked up the medical examiner's fragile hand in her own. The woman looked at their tight grasp, but didn't say a word. Smiling slightly instead, an expression Jane couldn't interpret flicked across her face before disappearing behind her normal, no-nonsense, grandmotherly mask. "Call if you need me," she directed this to Jane, as Maura had already leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Jane simply nodded. 'Thanks,' she mouthed. And then she settled in to wait. Maura had gotten in the habit of sleeping through as much of her treatments as possible. It was easier for her that way. But that left Jane to entertain herself. Normally she wouldn't have been more fidgety than a tied up stallion, at least that's what her mother always said, but for those five hours, three days a week, she merely sat and waited, content to hold the ME's hand, and wait for their opportunity to break free of the hospital's oppressive walls.

Jane jerked upright, groaning at the crick in her neck.

"Well good morning there sleepy head," Ann was standing above her, hands on her strong hips.

The brunette wiped at her mouth before glancing quickly at Maura. The patient's head rested on the back of the seat, her eyes still firmly closed. " 't time is it?" she asked.

"She's just about done," Ann replied, pulling up a chair and settling in.

Jane glanced warily at her.

"So, have you been sleeping?"

"Wha-What?" Jane asked. She'd taken to wearing concealer, if only to hide the bags under her eyes. The nightmares were nearly every night now, but thankfully, she'd only woken Maura up once.

Ann tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You have to take care of yourself, too."

"Yes. I know that," Jane glanced away. She thought she should be feeling embarrassed, angry like she'd been with Frost. But instead, she felt like a little kid under inspection.

"I expect you to take care of that girl when I'm not around."

"I-I-"

Ann bumped her shoulder into Jane's. "Take some time, Detective. You understand me? You need some time for yourself, too."

"Is that a diagnosis?" Jane tried to joke.

Ann merely shook her head disparagingly. "That's an order, missy."

Jane debated arguing back but decided it wasn't worth it. "Sure," she mumbled.

"I'm serious," Jane looked up. Ann was studying her. "It's good that you love her. She needs some love. But you gotta love yourself, too. You hear me."

"Yeah, yeah I hear you." Jane didn't even wanted to know how Ann had seen through them that quickly.

"Alright. Wake her up then. You two get home and get some rest."

"Okay," and this was a whisper. Jane couldn't muster her normal bravado.

"I'll see you Wednesday," Ann replied, slipping off around the corner in search of another patient.

"Yeah," Jane agreed, before turning back to her sleeping girlfriend and kissing her forehead. She looked over her shoulder one more time, half expecting Ann's eyes to be on her. No sign of the nurse. Turning back, "Wake up, Maur. You're all done. C'mon, love. Wake up."

They made it home with no trouble. Maura fell asleep in the car on the ride. Jane drove silently, contemplating nightmares and nurses and non-existent plans for a future that didn't involve hospitals. She knew better than to offer the medical examiner any food, simply poured her a glass of water, and made sure she was settled on the couch, before retreating to the kitchen for a moment. She needed to gather herself. She felt sort of like she was splintering off into all this millions of pieces and she didn't know which way was up or down and she couldn't handle it. She just wanted Maura whole and well so then she could be whole, too.

* * *

Maura wasn't sleeping on the couch. She reached down to pat Bass, while flipping on the television, but muting the Discovery Channel. She didn't want to watch, not really. She was simply waiting for Jane to come back from wherever the brunette had disappeared to when they'd gotten home. Something had happened at the hospital, or today. Sometime between Jane's nightmare, and this morning when they pretended it hadn't happened, and work, and her appointment, something had happened. Maura didn't understand. Not completely, but she knew Jane was trying to cope. This was her way of coping. She wasn't running. But she needed her space. And Maura was content with that. She understood.

"You're alright, aren't you, Bass. Oh, and you, too!" Maura enthused when Jo Friday wagged up at her from next to the tortoise. "Well, come on then," she encouraged. The little dog hopped up beside her and curled up against her stomach. She ran a hand softly along the little dog's back. "I don't know how to ease her fears," she confessed to the pets. "I know she's been dreaming about me. About me disappearing. But I don't know how to help her. I want to be here for her. I want to show her that I love her and that I would never leave her. Not by choice," she felt her voice crack. "I love her so much, guys. She's so wonderful. I've never met someone like her before. I wish I could understand her. I feel like I do. Like she allows me access to parts of herself that no one else is aware of. Because she is so amazingly complex. I love her." She paused and looked down at the animals. Neither one appeared to be listening. She sighed. Speaking to pets. Goodness. "Well, anyway, I love her. And I want to stay here for her. To be strong for her." And then the three of them lapsed into silence, waiting for Jane.

It was only several more minutes, but it felt like hours to the medical examiner, before Jane came back into the room, not speaking, simply sitting down on the floor, back against the couch, and long legs stretched out beneath the coffee table. Maura reached forward to play with a single rebellious curl.

"You need to call your parents, Maura," Jane's voice was strangely calm. Nearly monotone. "You need to call them because they're your parents and they love you, and they deserve to know that yo- that- everything. They deserve to know everything. So you need to call them."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

She was as surprised as Jane sounded. But the detective was right. "Okay. I'll call them."

"You will?"

"Yes. I'll call them. And I'll invite them for Thanksgiving."

"It's a month away," Jane groaned.

"But your mother was correct. They should know. And I should invite them, even if they don't attend."

"They'll come," Jane turned to catch Maura's eye. "If you invite them, they'll come."

"You think so?" And she couldn't hide her old insecurities from surfacing.

"I know so," Jane promised, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss to Maura's forehead.

"I love you."

"Me, too. Come on." Jane stood. "Bedtime."

"I need to shower," Maura hated going to sleep smelling of hospital, of medicine. She'd working around formaldehyde her entire adult life, but she still couldn't stand going to bed smelling of the chemicals.

"Shower first then." Jane agreed. "Now up," and before Maura could move, Jane swept forward and lifted the doctor into her arms. Maura squealed in delight. She wrapped her arms around Jane's neck.

"I can walk, Detective," she teased lightly.

Jane shrugged, heading for the stairs. "And I like having you close," she admitted nonchalantly.

Maura flushed and kissed the side of her girlfriend's neck. "Take me to bed, Detective." And now it was Jane's turn to blush. Maura smiled at the warmth creeping up the Italian woman's beautiful skin.

* * *

"I'm coming!" Jane called, wiping the water off on her sweatpants while stalking towards the door. The doorbell rang for a second time. "I'm coming! Jesus," she muttered, glancing at the clock on the mantle as she passed. Eight in the morning. Who, in their right mind, rang the doorbell at eight in the freaking morning on a Saturday. She smothered a yawn. Last night had been...hell. The worst it had ever been. Maura was still asleep. Jane hoped she slept in for awhile. Her body needed the recuperation time. Jane wished she were still asleep, too. Or that she'd slept at all. At least Cavenaugh had given her the weekend off.

"I'm c-c-co-" she yawned again, "-ming." Shaking her head to clear it, she flipped the deadbolt, yanked open the front door, and froze.

The woman on the other side of the door looked as surprised as she felt. "Good morning."

"Uh..." Jane didn't know what to say. She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. "How are you here already? Maura didn't even call you yet." She peered around the other woman suspiciously.

Constance Isles looked over her shoulder as though wondering what Jane was glaring at. "No, called me about what? I haven't heard from Maura in quite some time, but I'm in town on business and thought I might stop by. I'm sorry I didn't call first. I didn't realize that you," she looked Jane up and down, taking in her mussed curls, dark circles under her eyes, and ruffled pajamas, "that you would be here."

Jane looked down at herself, and sighed. Well, shit. "No, I - um - Maura's still asleep. But you're welcome to come in. I'm sure she'd be happy to see you."

"Thank you," Constance gave her a significant stare when Jane didn't leave the doorway.

"Right. Come on in then," sighing, the detective stepped back and ushered the dignified woman into the house. Maura was going to kill her. Jane tried to view the entryway through the eyes Maura would use. It was definitely not up to the doctor's ridiculous standards for her mother. The medical examiner usually spent the 24 hours before her mother's arrival cleaning so furiously that you could have eaten off the floor. Jane sighed. No, it was not up to the normal standards. Maura was going to freak out. Jane waited until Constance shed her coat and shoes before leading the way into the kitchen.

"Can I get you some coffee or tea?" Jane asked politely, her brain running a hundred miles a minute. She'd have to wake Maura up, but she desperately didn't want to. Maybe she could call her mother; Angela would keep Constance occupied.

"Tea would be fine, thank you."

Jane filled the kettle from the tap. "Is, um, Dr. Isles in town, too?" She'd never met Maura's father.

"Richard? No, he's still in London."

"Oh." An awkward silence descended over the room. Jane snuck a glance at the other woman, seated primly at the kitchen island. When the kettle began to sing, she sighed gratefully and filled the mug. "Here," she slid it towards Constance who smiled her thanks. Jane tapped her fingers against the counter anxiously. "Well, I guess I can go wake Maura up for yo-"

"Why were you so surprised to see me?" Constance cut her off suddenly, peering piercingly over the rim of her cup. "You said she hadn't called me yet. What did you mean by that, Detective?" Constance only ever called her detective.

Jane groaned internally. Lie. Lie, lie, lie, she told herself. "Oh, just to catch up," she gritted out.

"My daughter does not often contact me simply to 'catch up.' Although, after the accident, I though perhaps we had turned a new leaf. But I have not heard from her in several months. Why is that?"

Jane was not easily intimidated, but this woman was positively terrifying. "I-I don't really know," she lied again.

But Constance wasn't having it. "She and I agreed to try communicating more when I left the hospital, but so far, neither one of us has been succeeding although that well. Maura does not often rescind on her word. Surely you know that, _Detective," _there was a tone there, barely veiled, but Jane couldn't quite decipher it.

"I think," she paused, rubbing her palm, "I think she should be the one to tell you."

Constance examined her. "Alright."

"So, I'll just go get her for you."

"Fine," Constance shifted in her chair, picking up the paper Jane had set on the counter and unfurling it. "I'll be here."

Jane nodded and made her way towards the stairs, but she paused before leaving the room. "Mrs. Isles -"

"Constance." Jane wondered why she was allowed to call the other woman by her first name if Constance still insisted on calling her by her title.

"Constance," she forced out, "Just, when Maura comes downstairs, you should, well, I would appreciate it if..." she trailed off, miserable and unsure of how to communicate her desire.

"Yes?" The mother urged her.

"Just, try not to react too much," she finally let out. "And let her explain first, befor-before anything else." She avoided looking at Constance until the silence had dragged on for far too long. But she was surprised to see a smile on the imposing face.

"You're always protecting her," Constance murmured. Jane flushed. "I'll be down here whenever she's ready," she turned back to her paper, and the brunette rushed upstairs, trying to make sense of it all.

It was so unlike Constance to simply show up out of the blue, and after such a hard night. She laughed at the terrible timing of it all. A harsh, cold laugh with not a hint of humor in it. Resting her head against the door frame, she gathered herself. This could go bad, badly, very quickly. "Here goes nothing," she murmured, before positioning herself next to the bed. She looked down at the sleeping form in front of her. Maura's face was pale, her breathing slow and labored. With one hand, she clutched at the coverlet, even in the sleep. The other was flung out towards Jane's side of the bed, reaching for her partner. Her bald head rest on the pillow. Jane stretched out with one finger and traced Maura's ear, down her neck to rest on her protruding collar bone. "Love you," she whispered, then she bent down and took Maura's hand in her own, rubbing it gently. "Maur. Maur, time to wake up, honey. I'm sorry, but it's time to get up." Jane hated herself for having to do this. She wanted to let Maura keep sleeping, to handle it herself, but she couldn't. The medical examiner would want to deal with this little speed bump on her own. "Wake up," Jane whispered, kissing the exposed cheek. "Wake up, pretty girl."

* * *

**Thoughts? **


	35. Chapter 35

"My mother, Jane! My _mother _is here."

Jane watched helplessly as Maura threw, actually threw, clothes out of her closet into a pile on the bedroom floor.

"I didn't call her. She didn't call to announce that she was in town. Why is she here? The house hasn't been properly cleaned in days!" The doctor's voice was reaching an uncharacteristically high pitch.

All Jane could do was shrug pitifully.

"Can't you get rid of her? Tell her I'm indisposed or-or work called and it's going to be awhile."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I think she's here for the long wait, Maur. She isn't going to buy, 'Sorry! Your daughter can't come downstairs right now. Bug off, please!' It's not going to fly."

Maura emitted a cross between a whine and a humph!

"Besides, you can't lie remember," Jane glanced at the clock on the dresser. They'd been upstairs for over an hour already.

"No," Maura agreed. "But you can. Just one of the many things I love about you."

"Your sarcasm is greatly appreciated, _Dr. _Isles." There was silence from the closet, so she walked hesitantly forward, peering around the corner.

Maura, dressed only in panties and a t-shirt of Jane's, was staring desolately at the available options, her eyes full of unshed tears of frustration. "Nothing fits," she whispered. "It doesn't fit anymore." She hunched her shoulders miserably. "I have more items of clothing than any sane person should ever own, but none of it fits me," she let out a dry sob and swayed slightly in place.

"Hey, hey," Jane stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the frail woman from behind. Maura leaned back into the embrace, gratefully. "It's alright. We'll get you some clothes, okay? We can go out," but Maura shook her head no, "or you can online shop to your heart's content. It'll be okay. But your mother," Maura tensed at the mention of Constance, "she won't care. It doesn't matter what you're wearing." There were more important things than clothes to be dealing with right at that moment, but Jane knew fashion was a safety subject for the stylish medical examiner. Maura adored dressing well, looking her best, and to present a front that was less than perfect to her high-society mother was probably terrifying, nearly more so than the thought that in a few short minutes, she would be delivering some of the worst news a mother would ever dread to receive. Jane tightened her grip, nuzzling her face in Maura's neck. "Come on. Just slip on some swe-" she cleared her throat, "Yoga pants. Constance'll understand. Just this one time," she pleaded. There was silence from the smaller woman. She was contemplating, and when she turned to face Jane and give her a quick kiss, Jane knew she'd won that round. "You're beautiful," she murmured, waiting until Maura looked up at her. "And I love you," she kept eye contact, willing those hazel eyes to light up in belief, in trust, and eventually they did and she was rewarded with a small smile.

"Now c'mon," she turned and led the way back into the bedroom, gesturing for Maura to take a seat on the bed, before ruffling through the dresser drawers where she'd placed her stuff. Grunting in satisfaction, she pulled free a pair of yoga pants and an old BPD sweatshirt. She knew it was secretly Maura's favorite, although the medical examiner usually claimed she did not understand the draw of a plain cotton pullover. Gently, she handed the items over and then waited patiently while Maura slipped into them. The doctor had already insisted on showering first: a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anything.

"Okay," Maura breathed when she was finished. She smiled hesitantly at her detective, but Jane could detect the trembling in her hands and the slight crease in her forehead which indicated a headache. Her face was pale. She should have still been in bed, taking in fluids and resting.

Jane was never one much for pep talks, but she had a feeling this called for her best shot. She reached forward and gave Maura a hand up, then kept ahold of the long fingers. Taking a deep breath, she was pleased when Maura emulated it. She picked up the hat off the bed and slipped it snugly down over the other woman's head, kissing her cheek when she was finished. The doctor looked significantly smaller without her blonde curls. It was disconcerting. She'd insisted on purchasing several different silk scarves, to wear, but it was the wool hat Angela had knitted which she frequented the most often. She never said, but Jane knew it was for warmth. The doctor was cold almost 100% of the time these days. Often, Jane would stop what she was doing just to cuddle with the smaller woman and warm her up when the covers and layers she wore weren't doing their jobs. It was one of her absolute favorite reasons to forgo chores.

"You can do this," she affirmed, running a finger along Maura's cheek.

"My mother is a formidable woman," the medical examiner reminded, trying for practicality but sounding frightened instead.

"And she's your _mother,"_ Jane made sure to emphasize the word. "She loves you. She might be upset at first; it's kind of a shock," she gave a kiss to take the sting out of her words, "But she's your mom. She'll come around. Just give her some time."

Maura looked fondly at the brunette. "You're wonderful, did you know that?"

Jane flushed at the compliment. "What can I say, it just comes naturally," she joked.

"I'm being completely serious," Maura insisted.

"Well, I think you're pretty great, too, Doc. And smart, pretty, strong, beautiful, brave, perfect," she punctuated each word with a kiss.

"No one is perfect," Maura breathed.

"I know someone who comes pretty damn close then," Jane whispered, nose to nose with her girlfriend, staring seriously into dark hazel eyes.

"Language," Maura murmured back, but Jane felt the word more than heard it.

"Do you love me?" Jane asked.

"I do."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Jane closed the inch of space between them, taking Maura's lips in her own. "Then c'mon downstairs. And trust me; I won't let you fall."

"Promise?"

"I do." Taking a frail hand in her own, she led the way downstairs, glancing back every now and then to make sure the doctor hadn't forgotten to breathe. When they got to the bottom of the steps, they paused in unison. Two distinct laughs could be heard emanating from the kitchen.

"Sounds like my mother's here." Jane muttered. Maura's grip tightened. They didn't move. Another laugh broke out. The brunette heard her mother mention a fruit cake gone bad, and realized, with a slight tinge of horror that she was sharing old Rizzoli family stories, stories about Jane and her brothers, _embarrassing _stories. To Constance Isles. She wanted simultaneously to hide and to yell out in frustration.

While she was focused on that, she didn't realize that Maura had silently sunk down onto the bottom stair, her hand still stretched upwards so as to be connect to Jane. The detective glanced down in surprise and then quickly followed suite. She waited patiently for Maura to speak.

"I should have called her when I first found out." Jane merely nodded in agreement.

"Do you think she'll be upset with me?" Maura's fearful eyes looked at her as if Jane's answer would determine whether or not the other woman would survive the next few hours.

"Probably," she answered truthfully. "But, she'll get over it. She's a logical person, a smart woman. She'll understand...eventually."

"Will she hate me?"

Jane started at the question. "Hate you? Maura, no. What? Hey, look at me," she waited until she'd recaptured those beautiful hazel orbs. "She won't hate you. Sure, she's gonna be mad. But she _loves _you." Jane couldn't emphasize it enough. Sometimes she wondered how many times Maura had heard those three words throughout her life, and then she stopped wondering because it made her stomach turn over in discomfort and sadness. She didn't like feeling sad. "_I _love you." She never wanted to stop reminding the ME.

Maura nodded blindly, staring at the floorboards. Another shout of laughter rose from the kitchen, just as Bass poked his head around the corner.

"Look, even the turtle loves you."

"Tortoise," Maura automatically corrected, but she smiled at him.

Finally, Maura heaved a sigh, and pulled herself up into a standing position using the banister. Her face went white at the movement. Jane grabbed her elbow quickly. "I'm fine," Maura murmured, breathing evenly.

"It was bad last night," Jane brought it up for the first time. "Maybe I _should _send the mothers away for now," she looked doubtfully at the kitchen doorway. "Ma could probably keep her entertained for the rest of the day."

"No," Maura shook her head resolutely. "Thank you, but no. I simply need to get this over with."

"Alright," she had to agree. "Let's do it then."

Maura set her face in grim determination and began walking forward, straightening her spine as she did so. In front of her eyes, Maura Isles was transformed, as much as was possible in her present condition, into Dr. Maura Dorothea Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, trained in the art of high-society politics with the best of them, unafraid, solid, unwavering. Jane was in awe of the woman beside her, especially since Maura did not once let go of the detective's hand. Even this version of her girlfriend, this scientific, intimidating version of her best friend, relied on Jane Rizzoli. Even this version of Maura Isles loved her. Jane wondered when the butterflies would ever go away when she looked at the woman she loved.

At this point, they might have been half from fear, but she refused to acknowledge those ones. If Maura wasn't going to show weakness after spending more than half the night on her knees in the bathroom, a drug cocktail running through her veins, killing the good stuff as well as the bad, then Jane could sure as hell stand beside her, knees locked.

* * *

Maura stared at the back of the woman only ten paces in front of her. Constance Isles was facing away, looking over the island at Angela who had a book laid out in front of them. Maura, although she did not guess, predicted that it was most likely a photo album. Specifically one containing pictures of Jane and her brothers from when the three were children. She wondered idly if her mother owned such an album of her adolescent years, captured and preserved on film. Doubtful. But she pushed that thought away. She licked her lips in preparation for speech. She swallowed. And then she felt Jane's hand on the square of her back, not pushing, simply resting, reminding her of the detective's presence. She cleared her throat, but not loudly enough to be detected by the two older women.

"Mother," she managed, sounding at least in her mind, half terrified, half absurdly surprised. Angela looked up quickly, and Maura caught the flit of emotion which crossed the Rizzoli mother's face. Anxiety. So she hadn't given Constance any idea of what to expect. Jane stiffened behind her; she must have read it, too. "Mother," she said again, and Constance Isles turned to face her.

The older woman did not speak. She merely looked at her daughter, not a single hair out of place, designer suit unwrinkled. Maura wanted to shrink at the thought of how she must appear to her mother: old lounge pants, a sweatshirt of Jane's that nearly dwarfed her, hat on _indoors. _Not to mention the fact that she had lost approximately 14 pounds since her mother had last seen her. It was not an inordinate amount, but she could not afford to lose much from her athletic, petite frame before it began to have obvious effects.

She was about to repeat the title for the third time, willing the blank look to dissipate from Constance's face, when Jane nearly growled the other woman's name from behind her. It was a warning, Maura knew. And she watched as it took affect, seeming to shake her mother out of a daze. Constance's piercing blue eyes swept over her, once, twice, seeming to run some sort of gauntlet of emotion, until at last they settled on her face. And then her mother was out of her chair and approaching. The doctor forced herself not to shrink back. She wasn't afraid of her mother, certainly not, more so it was an automatic reaction to an unpleasant situation.

"Oh, darling," the older woman all but whispered, and then she was in her mother's arms, swept into a large hug, perhaps the most effusive display of emotion she'd ever witnessed from Constance Isles. Maura merely stood frozen on the spot, shock running through her veins. She vaguely recorded Jane moving from her position beside her towards the brunette's own mother before Constance had pulled back, gripping Maura's elbows, and kissed both of her cheeks gently. The Medical Examiner didn't know how to respond; she merely looked on dumbly as Constance examined her from a closer vantage point.

"Why don't you two go sit and talk in the living room," Angela suggested before Maura's silence could get awkward. "I'll bring in some tea."

Constance nodded and turned to lead the way, taking Maura's hand in hers, but the doctor looked over her shoulder questioningly. Jane was watching her closely from beside Angela; there was something nearly feral in the protective way her dark brown eyes possessed the doctor. She wanted Jane to come with her, she did not want to have to do this alone. She wanted Jane to sit next to her on the couch, to hold her hand, to place her strong fingers along Maura's spine in order to keep her upright, to protect her. From what, she was not quite sure. Her mother? Constance was not a threat. Herself? From what? But she knew, even as she was pulled around the corner, and the lanky woman disappeared from view that she needed Jane's presence in that room with her, she needed the detective's energy and strength and courage.

Just as Constance let go to seat herself primly in one of the side chairs, Maura felt her girlfriend slide onto the end of the couch, directly beside her, and she heaved an internal sigh of relief. If her mother was surprised to see that Jane had followed them, she gave no sign of it. Nor did Jane acknowledge that it was not just she and Maura in the room, because as soon as Maura had situated herself, Jane relaxed, allowing their thighs to run alongside one another, their bent legs in contact the entire way to the floor where Jane's foot was nudging her own. The medical examiner did not lean on Jane in any way, although she wished to be wrapped in those long arms more than anything, but she took great comfort knowing that Jane was next to her.

Maura tried to find the words necessary to start the conversation. What was it Jane always said? Get the ball going? Or something along those lines. But the only thoughts in her head were banal phrases and clichés. She stared at the carpet, avoiding the eyes of the woman across from her. Chancing a glance in Jane's direction, she saw that the brunette had her gaze fixed on the perfectly coiffed older woman, not threatening, merely watching, waiting. The medical examiner suddenly found herself wanting to scream, to fill the silence of the room, to drown out the pain in her skull, the roiling in her stomach. She cleared her throat softly instead.

"Jane said you were going to call," and they were off.

"I was," Maura rubbed her hands anxiously together.

"Was it going to be soon, because it looks like this is somewhat old news," the older woman's voice was thoughtful, musing.

"Of course it was going to be soon," Maura snapped her mouth closed, shocked at her rude tone. She looked up to find that Constance had raised an eyebrow.

"I see," she murmured. "What exactly is your condition?"

Maura grimaced. This was going to be nothing but a technical description. She should have been relieved, instead it was somewhat of a let down. Ignoring her disappointment, unsure where it stemmed from, she launched into a clipped explanation, providing the main points, but keeping the minor details to herself. Jane had gone rigid beside her, and she didn't need to see to know that the detective's face would be white with tension, her fingers rubbing at her scars in a circular, rhythmic motion, over and over and over again as she heard the words for what must have been the hundredth time. Now she wished Jane had remained in the kitchen; she hated putting her through this. She sped up, attempting to finish as quickly as possible. These words didn't have any affect on her any longer; she could have been discussing a patient, not herself. The shock, the horror, they'd worn off. Now she was left with facts.

"I began my second course of treatment yesterday after the scans came back with less than satisfactory results," she concluded, nearly breathless with the exertion of explaining.

Constance's face hadn't appeared to change throughout it all. She wondered what that meant. She did not have as much practice reading her mother as she did those she lived her life with now. Constance Isles had been schooled in the art of controlling her reactions since before she could read. She'd been the one to teach Maura, if only via example. There were never any actual lessons. The older woman's voice brought her out of her memories of nannies and cooks and boarding school matrons. "I should call your father."

"Pardon?"

"He's abroad. I'll have to call him and have him come here."

"Mother, I don't think that's necessary. Really."

Constance looked askance. "Of course he'll come."

"But, I-I," she wanted to say that she didn't want to interrupt his work. That she couldn't stand the guilt of pulling her parents away from their lives. It had always been one of her greatest fears. They were important people who did important things. Instead, "I have Jane," she glanced back to find her detective looking angry, but not at Constance, at her. What had she done? "And all the Rizzolis," she finished realizing that her mother did not know the about the advancements in her relationship with the detective. She turned back expectantly, waiting for Constance to agree.

There was a look then, between the brunette behind her and the woman on the chair, a look of understanding, of communication. A private conversation which Maura was not privy to.

"Convince her," Jane said suddenly, rising from her seat and taking her warmth with her. "You have to explain so that she understands." Maura opened her mouth to ask, _how, _how was she supposed to phrase it differently, when Jane cut her off with a quick kiss. "I love you," she whispered. "Convince her," it was directed at Constance, not her.

Her mother nodded seriously, seemingly unfazed by the public display of affection that quite obviously crossed the boundary between 'friend' and...more so. Maura felt herself becoming more and more confused. And then Jane was gone, around the corner, back to the kitchen where Angela was most likely awaiting a play-by-play update.

"Darling," Constance leaned forward, wrapping one of Maura's hands in her own. "I'll be calling your father, and he _will _be coming to Boston and _both_ of us will be remaining in the city." The _indefinitely _lingered between them. "We'll stay at the Elliot."

"I-I don't understand."

"Oh darling, oh my wonderful, smart girl," her mother had never used those adjectives in her direction before. The older woman had moved so she was sitting beside her daughter on the couch now, still holding her hand, chafing it between her warm palms. "I'm sorry. I'm so terribly sorry," Maura wanted to ask what she was apologizing for. She needed a clarification. "Is it alright if we come and stay? Is that okay with you?" Permission? Her mother was asking her permission.

"Of course," she'd given it without really understanding what it was for. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be trapped underwater.

"I see that Jane has moved in-"

"I love her," she blurted it out. She'd never discussed love with her mother before. There was a time, when she had been planning on marrying Garrett, when she had almost asked her mother what love was supposed to feel like, but she hadn't.

"I know, dear, and she loves you."

"Do you think so?" She knew that Jane did. On the surface she knew. She felt it every time the detective touched her, looked at her, smiled at her, but she wanted to know if others could see it, too. She needed validation.

"I do," Constance assured her. "Very, very much."

Her mother looked sad. Maura squeezed the hand in her own reflexively.

"Maura," she looked up, "Jane has taken very good care of you." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway. "Good. That's very good," Constance took a deep breath. "You should to be taken care of. You deserve to be loved. All the love that Jane has for you. You deserve it."

"Do _you _love me?" She knew the answer to that, too. Her mother had pushed her out of the way of an oncoming vehicle. Logic said that she was loved by her, by both of her parents. But sometimes she wished to hear the words more than anything. Sometimes when Angela Rizzoli hugged or, or when the matriarch hit her daughter teasingly with a spoon while making dinner, when they exchanged jokes over the table, when Jane ran from her mother's wide-stretched arms, when the detective mumbled those three words grudgingly and Angela's face broke out into a beaming smile. Those times, she had wished for her mother's voice. For her mother's voice letting those three words escape into the air.

Constance was crying, she realized. She felt badly for making her mother cry, but she didn't really understand. She felt detached. And then she was in her mother's arms again, and the warmth was bringing her back to the present, the hands pressed into her back were waking her up. The "I love you," whispered into her ear, and then again, made her eyes open wide. "Darling," Constance pulled back, giving a laugh as she wiped futiley at her tears, "Do you have any idea how _much _I love you? How proud I am of you? How wonderful you are?" Maura shook her head mutely because it was the truth. "I'm so sorry," her mother whispered, tears still flowing, "I am so sorry. I love you, and I am going to call your father, and the two of us are going to stay in Boston as long as you need us to because we are your parents, and we have failed you far too many times."

"Mother-" it was a plea.

"Your detective is quite protective of you. I remember that time at my art show. She certainly has no qualms about putting me back in my place." She chuckled. "As well she oughtn't to have any. Because she loves you, darling. I'm don't think it's even possible to explain to you, but I hope you can feel it. It's impossible not to see it," Constance rubbed a hand affectionately along Maura's dry cheek. "She tried to warn me, you see. Before going upstairs to get you. But I didn't fully understand. Now, though. Now I do."

Her mother was making very little sense, and her head was spinning.

"I love you, Maura. And as upset as I am that you did not call me immediately, that you didn't trust me, I understand that-that it is my own fault. I'm so sorry, darling."

She thought her mother was apologizing but she didn't know why. "It's alright," she replied anyway, because it was. "It's alright," she said again, fumbling over the way the words sounded in her mouth.

"I love you."

"It's alright."

"I love you."

"Okay," the medical examiner stared at her mother. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I-" another breath. "I love you. Too." She was crying now as well. And they were hugging once more, her mother holding her tightly, in a manner that Maura could only vaguely recall from a time when she was still small enough to be afraid of the monsters in her closet.

They stayed that way, holding each other for many, many heartbeats, until Maura felt herself falling asleep against her mother, supported by Constance's surprisingly strong arms, not unlike Jane's in a way. Just as defensive. Just as sure, as sturdy. "Rest," she heard her mother whisper, a kiss sliding across her forehead. She felt herself being laid down, being covered with a light weight of warmth. "Rest, my darling," another kiss, and then she was gone.

* * *

Jane licked the last of the whipped cream off the spoon, not really listening to her mother, more focused on the quiet from the living room. They'd been in there quite awhile. She hadn't wanted to leave, but Constance needed the chance to try, for her sake, but more for Maura's sake. So now she was waiting, and Angela was driving her crazy, and she wanted to sleep, but also to sleep with Maura and hold the doctor and remind her that Jane loved her. That Jane loved her with her entire being and that she would never leave and never run and never stop fighting for the medical examiner. She wanted their mothers to leave so she could pull Maura close and whisper how beautiful she was, and kiss Maura's neck and that spot, right below her collar bone that always made her shiver. Instead, she was eating whipped cream and waiting for Constance to reappear and reassure her that she hadn't broken her daughter, that she hadn't hurt Maura in any way, because if she had, if this explanation went wrong, there was going to be hell to pay.

"Janie," her mother was waving a hand in her face. "They'll be fine. Stop worrying."

"I know," she muttered, leaning back, and catching sight of the older Isles woman reentering the kitchen as she did so. She leaped from her chair suddenly.

"She's resting," Constance held out a hand to stop Jane's flight for the living room. "She's asleep."

Jane stared at her.

"I think she's alright," the mother explained carefully. "I think...she understood."

Jane peered at her. "Yeah?"

"And I-I understand as well." Constance looked at the detective carefully. "Thank you."

Jane tensed.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

She shrugged.

"For loving her."

She nodded. That was a no brainer.

"Thank you. For being there when I coul- when I wasn't."

Angela bustled around the island countertop, surprising both women and interrupting their little bubble of concentration. "Are you hungry?" She asked to the room at large, but it was Constance who answered her.

"Oh no. But thank you, Angela. I really need to go and call Richard. Make arrangements."

"You'll be staying then?" Jane finally spoke.

Constance nodded. "As long as she wants us to, and most likely beyond that timeframe."

Jane smirked. "Good."

"I, perhaps, that is, once Maura and I have had a chance to talk a bit more, I was hoping you might allow me to help."

Jane looked at her thoughtfully, consideringly.

"I would like to be useful. And I realize that although my actions may speak to the contrary, I feel quite as protective of my daughter as you do, Detective." There was the normal haughty tone in the other woman's voice. Jane found she was actually relieved to hear it. The mother was coming out of her shock. "Anything you're comfortable with, that Maura is comfortable with. Anything," a hint of desperation there.

"Of course," Jane murmured. "Of course." She had gotten used to sharing the responsibility. And of course Maura's mother should be involved, especially now that she would be in the city. Jane knew, without even worrying about it, that Constance Isles would soon become somewhat of a fixture in her daughter's life. That woman was more stubborn even than Jane thought she was. And she was tough. Jane could respect that. She didn't necessarily like Constance all that much, she didn't want to trust her, but she did, and she appreciated the woman more for her actions in the last hour. "Of course." She stepped forward and reached out a hand. Constance looked down at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, before stretching out her own. They shook on it.

"Yes, well, I ought to call Richard."

Jane offered her the room that was Maura's office and which Jane had partly taken over as a sort of den these days.

"If she wakes up before I'm finished, would you come and get me?" It was hesitant. Constance was trying to find the boundaries of this new relationship.

"Of course," Jane agreed.

"Oh, and Jane," the brunette stiffened at the use of her name, "Thank you." Constance had placed a hand on the detective's arm, already slipping into the den.

"She's tough, and stubborn, and strong. Stronger than anyone," Jane responded.

"And so are you," Constance replied, before shutting the door quickly and quietly, leaving a stunned detective in her wake.

* * *

**AN: My God. Seriously. Y'all just keep blowing me away with your reviews and PMs and support. Holy. Heck. Our two favorite ladies have got some rough times ahead. Things are gonna get worse before they get better. I hope you guys stick around for the ride. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Love.**


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: Y'all, I am sooo sorry about the long wait. But, here's the new update. I haven't fixed it up at all because I wanted you guys to have it tonight, so I'll go back tomorrow and edit out the bugs. I hope you're still with me and with our favorite ladies. Thoughts are appreciated. Love. **

* * *

Jane threw the file down on her desk in disgust. "This is bullshit," she growled. She let out a string of obscenities under her breath.

"Jane," Frost's voice was hesitant, unsure. She spun in her chair, twisting her head back to look at him, and merely raised in eyebrow in question. "Isn't it...umm...Friday?" She stared at him. "It's Friday right?"

"Friday? Well, whaddya know. It is. Let's get the boy a goddamn medal. He knows his days of the week. I'm so proud," she put a sarcastic hand over her heart. "I know what day it is. Thanks," and then she spun back around.

"But. Bu-But," he seemed to be trying to decide whether of not to finish his thought. She rolled her eyes. "But it's 1:45. I-I mean, don't you have to, you know," he indicated towards the door.

"1:45? 1:45? Oh my god! He's a bonafide genius. Did y'all know our Frosty boy can tell time over here. Somebody call the mayor, the president, someone! He deserves to be fricking put on a monument. Holy hell. I didn't know you passed the first grade."

Now it was Frost's turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever," he mumbled, flushing when he noticed several other detective's looking their way.

She forced herself to take a deep breath before turning fully to face him head on. It wasn't Frost's fault she was so ramped up. It _was _nearly two, and the fact that she didn't have to be leaving was causing her quite a bit of distress. "Sorry, partner," she murmured, blushing when he looked at her in surprise before managing to school his features into a collected mask. Jane didn't apologize. Ever.

He nodded in gratitude, and then waited patiently. There was more. And he knew it. Jane felt undeniably grateful for her partner in that moment.

"It's just," she sighed, scuffing her foot on the old linoleum floor. "Well, you know how Constance is here?"

He nodded again.

"And Maura's dad is coming in tomorrow. Well, it's just that I've been working and Constance has been spending the past few days at the house, and she and Maura have been talking a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Which is good. It's great," she hastened to add, not wanting to sound too much like a ninny. "So, Maura decided that she wanted to ask Constance to go today. T-to take her to her appointment."

Frost didn't speak.

"So, you're right. It's time for me to leave, but I don't have anywhere to be. And, it's fine, ya know," she looked up at him, meeting his understanding gaze. "I'm so happy that she and her ma are reconnecting or whatever. It's just that I-I-I-"

"You've been going," he finished for her. "Every time. You've been there. Every day."

"Exactly," she breathed. "But it makes me feel...weird...to admit that. Clingy or overprotective. Like my mother," she huffed under her breath, frowning when Barry smiled at her admission.

"Hey," he raised his hands in the air in surrender, "Angela Rizzoli is one tough lady. I for one never want to be on her bad side."

She rolled her eyes.

Frost looked thoughtful. Jane bit her lip while she waited for him to really answer. They didn't normally do heart-to-hearts like this. Maura was the one she went to with that kind of stuff, grudgingly, and usually only after a beer or three. Sometimes she and Frankie would hash this shit out while they were out on the court, working it out. Frost was her partner, yes, and her friend, but lately, she'd begun to realize that he was also family. He came to Rizzoli Sundays and he'd been present for everything with the medical examiner. He'd accepted the two of them without batting an eye. He was solid. Barry Frost was strong and dependable and, despite his fondness for action figures, he was a good detective. Jane trusted him with her life. She trusted his opinion.

"I bet she wouldn't mind if you went, too," he suggested, but the brunette shook her head immediately.

"I want to give them this time, this space. It's good for them, ya know. I just..."

"She's not trying to replace you, Jane."

The lanky detective stared at him, wondering when he'd gotten so perceptive.

"You know how important work is to the Doc, and she knows how important it is to you. It must kill her to think of you taking all that time off, to think of what you're giving up for her."

"I don't care about that," Jane interjected quickly. "It's not as important."

"No," he drew out the word. "But, Maura is one of the nicest people around. You know that. And she loves you, like _really _loves you, Jane," he waited until she acknowledged his statement with a nod, "So, she probably feels a little bit guilty, or a lot, to be taking you from what you love."

"I love _her_," her voice was fierce and protective, and Jane felt butterflies in her stomach as she pinched the words out.

"Hey, I get it," her partner leaned back in his seat as if to assure her that he wasn't attacking her claim. "Hell, anybody could tell just by looking at the two of you for a few seconds." He ignored her when she shifted in her chair. "I'm just saying, that you're right; it's great for Maura and her mom to connect over this. And it probably makes Mrs. Isles feel useful and helpful. But Maura isn't trying to replace you. She's giving you a break, some time off. Because she loves you," he enunciated each word carefully.

Jane mulled over his words. He was right of course. He usually was, even if she and Korsak gave him crap. And Jane really was pleased that Maura and Constance were getting along so well, that the mother had stepped up to the plate, and that Maura was accepting her help, was slowly coming to realize that she wasn't a hindrance for her parents, that it was alright for them to put down their lives for a bit and rally around her.

It had been ridiculously sappy and heartwarming to come home the day before to find Maura and her mother on the couch, an old photo album held between them. To see Maura resting her head on her mother's shoulder like a small child while Constance recounted the events of each picture softly and fondly. To see little Maura in a pink ballet tutu, or her green eyes bright with excitement over a new microscope she'd gotten for Christmas, a tween Maura lounging in a window seat, book in hand, or one that must have been taken without the teenager's knowledge where she was lying on the grass, her head resting on her arms, looking up at the clouds, face hidden behind the splay of golden curls. And afterwards, after dinner, and more stories, and after Constance had retired to her hotel room and Jane and Maura had crawled sleepily into bed, when Maura hadn't been able to stop talking about the photo album, Jane had felt her heart nearly burst with how happy she'd been. She'd listened to her lover ramble on and on about the things Maura hadn't realized her parents had witnessed or noticed from her childhood, and she'd been undeniably grateful to the older woman for coming when she had. For giving Maura something to focus on, for making the medical examiner smile in a way she hadn't in quite some time.

There were still issues there. Tensions, like when Maura had mentioned a show she'd done when she was twelve and Constance had merely looked at her daughter blankly until the ME realized that her parents had been in Germany at the time. Or when Constance's phone had rung at dinner and she'd gone into the study to answer it. Jane had felt Maura's fear at that moment. Her fear that her mother might come out and with an airy apology, rush out the door on some matter of business. But, instead, Constance had returned to the meal quickly, and she didn't mention the call or look at her phone again for the rest of the evening. The older woman was sincerely trying, and Jane was grateful to her.

"Jane?" Frost's voice pulled her back from her musings.

"You're right," she sighed. "Thanks, partner," she gave him a sincere smile. One which he returned.

"I'm pretty sure moral support is in my contract," he joked. "But, speaking of taking some time off, some of the guys are getting together at the Robber tonight for the game. You're welcome to join us if you want."

"I don't know..." she considered. "I should probably get home."

He shrugged. "A little therapy can be good for the soul."

"I'm not sure if beer counts as therapy, Frosty boy."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"We'll see," she allowed. And he grinned at her.

"This some kind of sharing circle?" The two detectives glared over at Crowe who was walking back to his desk. "Keep your lady problems at home, girls," he smirked at them.

Jane felt her hands curl into automatic fists.

"Oy! You two!" Korsak bellowed from across the room, disrupting the sudden tension. They looked up at him in unison. "Are you gonna sit on your asses all day or come over here and help me solve this murder?" They both groaned, but rose from their seats.

"Another day, another dollar, right partner?" Jane clapped Frost on the back good naturedly.

"If you say so," Frost groaned, letting her lead the way over to the murder board where Korsak was glowering at the information they'd managed to gather for their current case.

* * *

"Constance? Oh, um, hi." Jane was surprised at the voice on the other end of the line. "I just, I was calling to talk to Maura. But, um, how'd i-it go?"

The other woman's voice sounded distant over the telephone line. "Yes, I believe it went...well," she was hesitant with her word choice. "I met Ann."

Jane smiled at the thought of the fiery nurse.

"She seemed very," another pause, "strong. But, we're home now. Maura is resting on the couch. She said it went well. I wasn't sure how I'm meant to judge such things."

For a moment, Jane felt sorry for the older woman. She'd been in that position: not sure how to act, how to tell exactly what the situation entailed, what to say or do. It was both maddening and terrifying, especially if you were used to being in control of the situation all the time.

"But, from what I could tell, it seemed fairly routine," Constance continued.

Routine. Jane let out an explosive breath. She hated that chemotherapy was routine. "Right. Well, that's good."

"I believe she misses you."

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"Maura. That is to say, the past few days I've come to realize how much she relies upon you. And she misses you when you aren't with her. She looks for you sometimes, like when she enters a room."

Jane gripped the phone tightly.

"I just - I wanted to say thank you. For being the someone that she looks for. And, also, I know that I apologized to Maura, and that one apology does not outweigh decades of mistakes, however, I wanted to say thank you to you for allowing me the opportunity to try to set it to rights with her."

"I didn't do anything," Jane spoke past the sudden lump in her throat.

"Perhaps not directly, no, but you have obviously been wonderful for Maura and I am grateful to you."

The detective wasn't sure how she was meant to respond. "It's easy," she whispered, before clearing her throat and repeating herself. "It's easy. Loving her," she clarified. Jane didn't speak about her feelings, but this was the second time today she'd admitted to her emotions for the good doctor to outsiders. It felt...strange.

"I suppose so," Constance mused. "Would you like to speak to her?"

"Is she - is she sleeping?" Jane didn't want to wake her, but she desperately wanted to hear Maura's voice. Constance may have told her chemo went fine, but Jane wouldn't feel reassured until she spoke to her girlfriend herself.

"I don't believe so," there was the sound of footsteps, and then Constance's voice came through the speaker, muffled, as though she had her hand pressed over the mouthpiece. "Maura, dear. It's, Jane." And then there was a shuffling as the phone exchanged hands.

Jane glanced down the hallway in both directions, making sure the coast was still clear. She was standing at the end of the hall from the homicide division, having stepped out for a minute. She'd been planning on waiting until she got home, not wanting to seem overbearing, but then Korsak had invited her out with the guys and so had Lee and Shane. She did want to stop by the Robber to see everyone. Like Frost had said, it'd been awhile since she'd gone out with everyone. But she wouldn't go without Maura's okay first. Without determining whether or not the medical examiner needed her home. Which, if her girlfriend made even a sound of discontent at the idea, Jane would exnay the plan immediately.

"Jay?" Maura's voice came on, quiet and a bit hoarse.

"Hey," Jane felt her own voice dip in response as she held the phone closer to her ear. "You sound sleepy," she murmured, and she felt that she could hear Maura smile over the phone.

"No," Maura denied playfully.

"Hives, Doctor," Jane joked. "How'd it go today?" she asked, serious now.

"Same as always. Ann asked about you. She wanted to make sure I was keeping you out of trouble."

"Doesn't she know I'm a cop?" The detective played. "And...everything...else?"

"It was fine."

"I hate that word."

"Jane," a tinge of warning there.

Jane sighed, frustrated. "Maura."

"I promise. It went just as they all do. And my mother was very helpful."

"Good," she growled.

"How has your day been?" Maura changed the subject quickly.

"Eh," Jane shrugged even though the other woman couldn't see her. "We've been chasing leads all day. No luck so far. Frost is on a call right now. But I doubt it will come to anything."

"Will you be done at six?"

She paused at the question. Would she? Yes. Should she ask? She debated internally for a moment before, "Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," she admitted. "Some of the guys are going out tonight to watch the game and have a few drinks. They invited me to tag along. Just at the Robber. But I told them I'd think about it."

"Okay."

Jane didn't know how to interpret the word. "Well, I just, what do you think about that?"

"Think about what?"

"Me. Going out."

There was silence on the other end. "Jane."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I love you." Maura's voice sounded shaky.

"I-I don't have to go, Maur. I'd be just as happy to come home and see you. You know what, this was a stupid idea. I'll just go and tell Frost no." She was speaking too fast, she knew, but she couldn't stop.

"No," Maura cut her off. "I love you."

The detective felt herself relax. "I love you, too."

"And I want you to go out with your friends."

"But-"

"I'll be fine here. My mother will stay until you get home and I'm sure Angela would love to come over and visit."

"Maur," she was half pleading, half unsure.

"Jane, you know how much I love having you home with me. But this-this illness has started taking over our lives and I don't want that. I especially don't want that for _you_. So of course I want you to go to the Robber and "hang out,"" the air quotes were clearly visible in Jane's mind's eye, "with Barry and Vince and whomever else. I won't be upset when you do things that make you happy, Jay."

"You make me happy," Jane pouted.

The medical examiner laughed softly. "Go out, detective. Have fun. You worry too much."

"Yes, dear," Jane parroted. "You'll call me if you need me?"

"Of course."

"I mean it, Maur," she threatened.

"I know you did. I love you."

"Love you, too, pretty girl," Jane smiled and hung up.

"Gotta call home and get permission from your girlfriend to go out, Rizzoli?" Jane hadn't heard Crowe approaching. She whirled on him.

"Shut it, Crowe," she growled. Crowe had been growing bolder and bolder ever since word about her and Maura had leaked out into the precinct. Jane didn't particularly care how the word had spread. She was over that insecurity. People could think whatever they wanted. She loved Maura. Maura loved her. What anybody else thought was their business. But, so far, everyone had been fairly supportive, or at least, they hadn't mentioned it. But Crowe...he'd been a shit head since before he could walk. And his rude comments were getting real old real quick.

He merely smirked at her. "Never thought I'd see the day when the Queen of the Dead would have bad-ass Rizzoli whipped."

She advanced on him quickly, reaching out a hand to push him back against the wall, hard. "I would consider your next words carefully," she encouraged him dangerously.

"Jane!" Frost called her name from the doors leading to the homicide floor. "Case," he said, pointing at the file in his hand. He stared at her, waiting for her to remove her hand from where it still rested on Crowe's chest.

"Duty calls," Crowe sneered.

"Shut up," Jane snarled at him, before letting go and heading towards her partner. The warm glow she'd had after speaking with Maura had disappeared. She and Crowe had never gotten along and they never would. She just hoped he watched his back. He could say whatever he wanted to about her, but Maura. No. The medical examiner was off limits.

"Good?" Frost asked her quietly as she approached.

"Fine," she grunted.

"Want some of us to take him out back and show him a lesson?" her partner teased softly.

She glanced at him thankfully. "Nothing I can't handle," she assured him. And Frost nodded in understanding before glaring down the hall at Crowe's retreating back. "Come on. If we want to get to the bar before the game starts, we better start moving on this case. Otherwise Cavenaugh is gonna make us stay late, and I'm not sure I could handle that today."

"You're coming?" Frost looked pleasantly surprised.

"I might even be buying," she agreed. "_If _you help me with my paperwork."

"Deal," her partner agreed, reaching out to shake on it.

* * *

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that...it is! Jane Rizzoli, ladies and gentlemen!" Jane laughed and waved away the round of applause that swept the cop bar upon her entrance. She groaned but gave a half-hearted bow before heading for the bar.

"Thanks, George," she smiled as the bar tender handed her a glass already full.

"Haven't seen you around in awhile, Rizzoli," the barkeep responded.

She shrugged. "You know how things go."

"I do," he nodded. "Jane," she looked up at him. "I was sorry to hear about the Doc. We've all been sending her good thoughts."

Jane dipped her head in thanks.

"She's one of the good ones," George said, before heading off to fulfill another patron's order.

Jane tapped a finger on the dull bar before pulling away and heading for her usual booth. It always surprised her when people said things like that. She hardly knew George. He'd been tending bar since before she went through the academy, and he knew just how she took her burger, but she'd never really had a conversation with him. She glanced back to see that he was joking with a rookie. People were always surprising her.

"Janie!" her middle brother raised his glass in a toast at her arrival and scooted over so she could join him across from Vince and Frost. "About time you showed up," Frankie joked.

"Sorry, little brother. Had to finish up some things."

"Game starts in ten," Frost informed her.

She leaned back in her seat as the guys picked up their conversation, discussing stats and potential outcomes. She was pleased to see that nothing had changed. Sure, the guys still came over every Sunday, but there was nothing like the Dirty Robber on a fall Friday night after work, with the game on, and the room crowded with cops off for the weekend, conversation overflowing into the street every time someone new blew in, the click of the break as a new game of pool started over in the corner. This was the first place she'd come to after her first day on the job, the place she celebrated her promotion to homicide, the place she could unwind at, the place she'd come to after a rough day of no leads. She felt comfortable here. But that comfort was disrupted now when she thought about the empty space at her elbow. She wished Maura were beside her, red wine in hand, her designer dress starkly out of place in the dingy bar, admonishing Korsak for the donut he'd had for lunch, urging Jane to please just try the salad. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. No new messages. She could call...just to check in. But then Frankie was asking her opinion on something and Frost was arguing and her beer was getting warm, so she took a sip, and she slid her phone back into her pocket, knowing that she'd be home soon enough.

* * *

"I think I should get going," Jane said next to Frankie. They were up at the bar, grabbing another round for everyone.

"Nooooo," her brother very nearly whined. "C'mon, Janie."

She glanced at her phone and shook her head firmly. "I've already been here for over an hour and I want to get home and check on Maura."

Frankie's face went serious immediately. "Sure, alright."

"You guys are slow," Frost interjected suddenly, coming up from behind them and grabbing his beer out of Jane's hand.

"I think I'm gonna take off," Jane informed her partner. He gave her a knowing look.

"Alright.

"Gotta get home to your girlfriend?" The three cops turned at the sneering voice behind them.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Do you have a problem, Crowe?" she asked him, annoyed that it kept coming back to this.

"Who, me? Oh, no. I just think it's funny is all."

She didn't want to ask. She wouldn't rise to the bait, but, sighing, "What's funny?"

"Big bad Jane Rizzoli, taking down murderers and what not, and she's got the hots for the lady doctor."

"Right," Jane let out, before turning back to face the bar. Crowe was obviously a tad drunk and she really didn't want to deal with his crap anymore.

"Tell me," Crowe continued, "is Dr. Isles just as frosty on the inside as she seems on the outside?"

Jane spun around immediately.

"Or is it that she just has an icicle stuck up her ass?"

And with that, she very nearly launched herself at the man. Except Frost and Frankie caught her between them, stopping her headlong rush. "I've had just about enough of your bullshit, Crowe," she snarled.

He shrugged, ignoring the hot looks he was getting from her partner and brother. "Maybe it's karma is all."

"Karma?" Frankie bit out.

"Yeah, you know. She's always so high and mighty, above the rest of us with her photographic memory and shit, and then she gets brain cancer... That's karma if you ask me."

Jane felt her face grow white with fury. He had no right. No right. The bastard. She struggled to pull herself free from the arms holding her before she realized that she'd already been released. Frost and Frankie had simultaneously gone for the offending detective.

Frost got there first, punching Crowe ferociously on the nose. "Nobody asked you," he grimaced, holding his hand to his chest, as blood from the now broken nose squirted everywhere.

Crowe bent over, cradling his noise in his hands, but Frankie jerked him up by his collar. Jane looked around to see that George was watching them closely, but hadn't made a move to intervene. Those people around them had backed off a few paces, giving them space. No one looked at all sympathetic to Crowe's plight. "Don't you ever, _ever, _say that again." Jane had never heard Frankie sound quite so intimidating. "If you ever speak about Dr. Isles that way again, it will not end well for you, understand?"

Frost had turned to look at her, silently asking what she wanted them to do. She shook her head slightly and Frankie let go of the man with a grunt of disgust.

"Gonna go crying home to your dyke lover," Crowe bit out, glaring up at Jane.

And before either man could retaliate, Jane had stepped forward and punched the other detective again. "Never. Again." She ordered, bringing her knee up to the man's tender area. She felt cold, controlled, furious.

Suddenly, Cavenaugh was standing in front of them all. She hadn't seen her boss arrive. "Rizzoli," he barked, and she stopped, breathing tightly through her nose. "Gentlemen," the Lt. ordered two rookies from the crowd. "Escort Detective Crowe across the street to my office, please. He and I are going to have a little chat." He glared at his officer and then waited until the three men had made their slow way towards the door, Crowe leaning heavily on the other two. "I could have you three suspended for fighting," he stared at them, but Jane didn't look away. Crowe had offended Maura. He'd been disrespectful, beyond disrespectful. He deserved to pay for it. "But, I suspect it was well earned."

"He insulted the Doc," Frankie muttered, staring at the floor.

"What was that, Officer?" Cavenaugh barked at him.

"He insulted Maura. Sir."

"I see. Well in that case, well done. Rizzoli, would you like to discuss this now or on Monday?"

Her expression morphed from one of stony defiance to surprise.

"This is not Detective Crowe's first strike," Cavenaugh elaborated. "Will you be filing a complaint?"

Jane shook her head. It hadn't happened on BPD territory. She wanted to cause as little drama at work as possible. She could handle this on her own.

"Fine then. Monday it is. And Rizzoli, I expect you to get some rest this weekend. You look like crap."

She nodded silently.

"Tell Dr. Isles I say hello," he said, his voice softening. "George," he acknowledged to the barkeeper. "Sorry about the mess," but the older man waved him away. And then he was gone.

Frost and Frankie turned to look at her. Frost still cradling his hand. "You should get that looked at," she pointed at his tender appendage. Her voice felt flat, cold. She no longer felt angry. Instead, she merely felt controlled, tight, wound as though at any moment she would spring free. "I'm going home," she told them, and without waiting for a reply she turned and headed for the entrance. She needed to see Maura. Immediately.

* * *

**AN2: What'd ya think? Still hanging on? **


	37. Chapter 37

**I am horribly, horribly afraid of this chapter. But at the same time, I want you all to love it. And I'm not even sure if it makes sense, except that it makes sense to me and I think I might be rambling, but guys. seriously. this one... tell me what you think. it hasn't been edited, it hasn't been 'fixed.' this is as raw as it gets. and also, i've never done this before, but i can i suggest something? i wrote this chapter with two songs on repeat, and it might...help...to listen as you read. i don't know. now i'm feeling awkward, but if you want to, they were Madman by Clara Klein and Stay by Rihanna. now i'm feeling dorky. just read. love.**

* * *

Jane banged through the door, stopping only to kick off her boots before moving deeper into the house. She needed to see Maura. She didn't even register the cold water dripping down the back of her neck or that her hair was plastered to her head, sopping wet. The entire drive home she couldn't get Crowe's horrible, fucked up words out of her head. Or the way his face felt as her fist made contact with it. She needed Maura. It was consuming her, this need. Overwhelming her senses and her thoughts. Stumbling over the rug, she tripped her way into the kitchen, to find Constance and Angela sitting at the table together, mugs of tea in front of them.

"Jane?" Her mother sounded surprised. Constance gasped. "Jane?!" And now concerned.

"Where is she?" her voice came out harsh and unyielding.

"Janie, what -"

"Where. Is. She?" For some reason she couldn't think. Could hardly breathe. She felt that she should know where Maura was, if she could only take a minute and think about it. But her brain was stuck on Crowe's disgusting face, and the way Maura had looked that morning as Jane had slipped out of bed. Small. Sick.

Angela had stood up. The mother was walking towards her daughter, but Jane ignored her, looking at Constance instead. "Bedroom." Constance answered finally, her words making their slow way through the sludge surrounding Jane's thought processes. "She was waiting for you."

The detective gave a quick, brusque nod before spinning on her heel and barreling towards the stairs. Bedroom. Of course. Maura. She needed to see Maura. Taking the steps two at a time, Jane burst through the partially open door and came to a screeching halt. She wondered idly if her heart had skipped a beat. Was that even technically possible? Maura would know. Maura. There she was. Jane felt all the air leave her body suddenly, as though she'd run headlong into a brick wall. She was frozen.

* * *

Through the haze of sleep, Maura vaguely registered the sound of a door slamming downstairs. It brought her further out of her dream state, closer to consciousness. She'd been hovering there, trying desperately not to fall asleep. She wanted to wait for Jane. She was exhausted. Chemo always made her feel achy and old and weak. She felt like a shell of her old self. Well, she felt that way most days now. Thankfully, she'd managed to make it through the evening without any of the more physical side effects of her treatment. She and Constance had been working on things, and she'd honestly been pleased when her mother had agreed to take her to her appointment, but she wasn't sure she was comfortable losing control in such a manner in front of her mother quite yet. If ever.

Maura rolled over slightly in bed and cracked an eye open. By the dim glow of the bedside lamp, she could see that the alarm clock read 8:42. Jane should be home soon. Her head ached. She closed her eyes again. Perhaps that had been the door. Maura hoped so. She'd tried to stay up for as long as possible, but after she'd dropped off on the couch for the second time, her mother had insisted that she come upstairs. She _had _been thankful to sink into her mattress, down covers pulled up tightly around her, cocooned in the warmth. The only thing missing had been Jane.

Pounding on the stairs. That must be her detective, but why was she rushing? She felt more than heard Jane push her way into the bedroom. There was the headlong flight, and the rush of air as the door was flung open, and then a sudden silence, sweeping throughout the room. Maura couldn't even make out the sound of Jane's breathing across the ten feet separating them. Curious, Maura opened her eyes and, "Jane," she whispered.

The brunette was staring at her, eyes wide as though in the rictus of terror. Maura swept her gaze up and down the detective quickly, assessing. Jane's hands were clenched in fists at her sides. Her chest was heaving but there was no sound, as though she was merely imitating the motion of breathing. Her brown curls were plastered to her skull, and there was a puddle forming on the carpet beneath her feet. Her face was white, strained, tense. And she was shaking.

"Jay?" Maura whispered again, unsure what to do. She sat up slowly. The other woman watched her movements closely, almost warily, but she gave no indication that she'd registered the words leaving Maura's lips. "Honey," the medical examiner pulled back the covers and slid her feet onto the floor, moving slowly, as one might with a wild animal. Standing carefully so as to avoid a head rush, the medical examiner made her way towards her girlfriend. Jane didn't move.

"Hey there, pretty girl," Maura began, unsure where the words came from. "Hi. Sweetheart, why are you all wet?" Jane didn't answer, but her breathing slowed as Maura approached. Holding her hands out in front of her so that the brunette could seem them, Maura stepped forward until the two woman were only separated by several inches. She could feel the cold seeping off of the other woman through her pajamas. Peering carefully up into brown eyes, Maura lifted one hand and placed it gently on Jane's arm. The detective flinched at the contact, but the doctor didn't remove her hand. She didn't understand what was happening or why. She wondered if she was still dreaming, if this was some type of strange nightmare. But Jane's arm was solid beneath her fingertips, she could smell Jane's lavender scent and sense the other's woman fear rolling off of her in waves. Fear. And anger.

"Jane, honey, we need to get you out of these clothes. You're too cold. Can you take these off? Come on, sweet girl." Keeping her voice soft and controlled, Maura brushed her hand down along Jane's arm until she reached the clenched fist. She attempted to fit her fingers into the grasp, but let go immediately when Jane let out a gasp. Frowning, she peered closer and noticed that the knuckles appeared bruised and swollen. Those bruises were consistent with punching something...or someone. Glancing up, she saw that Jane was watching her closely, waiting for a reaction. Schooling her features, she adopted the cool mask she'd perfected after years of society functions and medical school. Jane gave a slight nod.

Holding onto Jane's elbow instead, she gave a slight tug. The brunette immediately began to walk forward, following on her heels as Maura led the way to the bathroom. She still hadn't spoken, nor had she taken her eyes off of Maura. The medical examiner could feel her own anxiety level rising as each second of silence passed, but she forced herself not to panic. "You need to warm up, Jay. So, I'll turn the shower on. Not too hot. And we'll get you out of these wet things." She had so many questions. Letting go of Jane's arm, she stepped forward, surprised when she felt Jane move behind her, mirroring her every step, sticking to her side as though Maura were her north. "It's alright, pretty girl. Okay. That's alright." She didn't stop speaking even as she leaned into the shower and flipped the nozzle, letting the spray wash over her hand as she waited for it to warm up. She smiled crookedly at Jane over her shoulder, trying not to let her panic show. Should she call for Constance? For Angela? Had they seen Jane when she'd come in?

"I think that's a good temperature," Maura whispered, realizing that she hadn't spoken above a hushed murmur since Jane had entered the bedroom. "We don't want it too hot right away. Your wet clothes have lowered your surface temperature, and it should be a gradual increase," she was rambling, but she didn't care. Jane didn't stop her. "Here, love." Maura stepped forward once more into Jane's personal space, reaching a hand into the silent woman's blazer pocket and retrieving her cell phone. Then she reached up and slid the jacket down Jane's shoulders, trailing her hands along the strong shoulders and well-defined musculature of Jane's arms, before folding the item neatly and setting it aside. Finally, she unclipped the detective's badge from her belt and put it almost reverently on the sink. Jane wasn't wearing her gun. With one hand, Maura undid Jane's belt and then slid it slowly around the thin waist. She paused for a moment, wondering how to proceed. It was as if Jane was in shock, but Maura couldn't fathom what might have brought it on. The bruised hand wasn't much of a clue.

The ME bit her lip, and looked up at the taller woman. Jane wasn't looking at her anymore, she was staring at the water cascading from the shower head. "Maur?" The word was hushed, broken, indecisive. It bounced off the tiled floor until it was swallowed in the rushing water.

"Jay. Honey," she reached forward, but pulled back at the last moment, unsure.

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them and gazing piercingly at the smaller woman. Her dark gaze searched Maura's face. "Maur."

"Yes," she wasn't sure it'd come out at all.

And then Jane grabbed her by the wrist, gently but firmly, with her uninjured hand and she pulled Maura into the shower with her, completely clothed. The glass door swung shut behind them, trapping them both under the spray.

Jane was staring at her and Maura felt as though she were being opened by the detective's black eyed gaze. Her every thought, every feeling, every aspect of her being was being pulled out of her and laid before the commanding woman. She felt more naked and exposed than ever before. But she did not feel afraid. Not then, and not when Jane reached a single, slim hand out to place it, gently, oh. so. gently, directly above the ME's heart. The hazel eyed woman did not look away from Jane's face, but she felt her body react to the touch, move imperceptibly forward, an automatic reaction. Jane closed her eyes once more.

Maura watched the droplets of water drip off the ends of Jane's curls, mixing with the water spraying down on top of them both. She felt her heart beating and knew, without knowing quite how, that Jane was counting the beats. The smaller woman took one deep breath and Jane's eyes flew open to gaze in consternation at her hand, as though unsure how it had come to be pressed against the now drenched BPD t-shirt Maura had been sleeping in. The medical examiner reached up and covered Jane's rough hand with her own smaller one. Was she dreaming?

Slowly, slowly so as not to break the stillness, Maura slid her hand down, along Jane's arm, tracing the curve of her elbow, the outline of her bicep, along the ledge of her collar bone, and behind her hair to rest on the back of Jane's neck. As her motion ceased, the brunette began to lean forward, as though the end of Maura's action had simply been the beginning of her own. Forward until she dipped her head and pressed her lips beneath the smaller woman's jawline, finding her pulse point immediately. The touch was feather light, so soft Maura thought perhaps she'd missed it. Until there it was again, and again, and then Jane was kissing her. Measuring the beats of Maura's life with her lips. Soft. Insistent. Honorary.

The blonde felt her head tip to the side of its own accord, providing Jane with easier access. Jane's hand above her heart felt heavier now, warmer, as though she was burning a hole through Maura's shirt, sending heat directly to her center. The blonde let out a gasp at the sensation. She slid her hand up and tangled it in Jane's wet curls, being careful not to pull.

The shower was still raining down on them from above. Maura felt as though her every nerve ending were coming alive, as though she could sense each droplet of water as it landed on her skin, as though Jane's touch was scalding her. The places where Jane was not touching her felt cold in comparison, numb. Needing more contact, the doctor place her other hand on Jane's hip, pulling them closer together so that Jane was directly under the spray, but once more, it was Jane who continued the action.

The detective spun them, slowly, but assuredly until Maura was inches from the glass wall, out from under the shower head, while Jane absorbed the full brunt of the spray. The doctor took her cues from Jane, placing both hands in the detective's hair, wrapped around Jane's neck. She felt the brunette tense, her shoulders contracting, and then she was being lifted, firmly held in the strong and capable hands of her detective. Maura was no longer thinking. She was simply moving. Reacting.

She wrapped her legs around Jane's waist, knowing, even as she did so that it was unnecessary; Jane would not let her fall. The other woman stepped forward and as her back came into contact with the cold wall of the shower, Maura felt a jolt run down her spine. The contrast of the concrete glass behind and the warm, flexible body pressed against her entire front, was shocking. Jane had placed one hand above the two of them, her arm locked, fingers splayed. With the other, she was tracing a pattern along the doctor's side. Her lips played teasingly with Maura's ear lobe.

"Maur." It was the first words spoken since they'd entered this closed off world of water and want. "Maura." And it was _i love you i love you i love. _"Maura."

"Ja-" but Jane's lips were on hers suddenly, insistently. Questioningly. Maura responded immediately, opening her mouth to the other woman, granting Jane access, moaning at the taste that filled her, pushing forward, wanting more. Jane sucked gently on Maura's bottom lip, before sliding her tongue into the other woman's mouth, and suddenly Maura felt as though her entire life up until that point had been a lie. There had never been anything but this moment. There had never existed anyone else except for the woman in front of her. She was no longer Maura Isles. She was lost, floating on a never-ending sea, but Jane was her tether. No. Her life line. Jane was anchoring her to the earth, but at the same time she was asking Maura to let go. To let go with her. To trust. Oh God. To trust her. She did. Implicitly. Without question. Without worry. Illogically.

"Please," she managed. But it was _yes. i trust you. i trust you. oh, god, jane. _

Please. Because she couldn't understand why it had taken them this long, or why she had never understood before. And Jane had slipped her hands beneath Maura's shirt and she was raising it inch by precious inch and slipping it off, over the doctor's head. And Maura felt that perhaps she was meant to feel self-conscious, to feel naked in front of this other person, this other being. But she didn't. She couldn't. Not when Jane hadn't taken her eyes off of her. They were the color of the night sky, Maura realized, the thought flitting through the back of her mind. Of the empty spaces between stars. Which weren't really empty at all. The stars the filled that space were simply too far away to be seen, their light hadn't reached earth yet, but in Jane's eyes, Maura felt as though she could see those stars, unfathomably far away, but here now. Shining out at her. And she was lost in those eyes.

Jane was kissing her again, stealing her breathe, making her heart race. Then suddenly Maura was standing, the water bouncing off the tiles beneath her feet, and she was under the spray as well, but her hands were still tangled in those long dark tresses, and Jane's lips were still on hers, even as the detective's hands caressed places on her skin that Maura hadn't realized existed. Words. She was writing words across Maura's spine, her clavicle, her hip. _this. yes, this. is love. i love you. i love you. i love you. maura. _

"Please."

And Jane's hands were above her head as Maura removed her of her shirt. She leaned forward, her mouth capturing the place behind Jane's ear, the place which always caused Jane to shiver, to come apart. "Please," she murmured.

And Jane had pressed their bodies together. Skin to skin. Palm to palm. Racing heart to racing heart. It was faster now. As the brunette slid one hand between them, reaching the place that was aching for her touch. Maura nearly came undone in that moment. And then Jane was inside of her. Filling all of the spaces Maura hadn't even known had been empty. Taking away pain and heartache, sickness, and fear. There was only this. Only Jane. Completing her. Holding her safe and sound and, God. Please.

"Maura," she couldn't hear it over the rushing water, over the ringing in her ears, but she felt Jane's lips move against her skin. And she was coming undone even as Jane was putting her back together. The only thing holding her up was a pair of strong, steady arms. She was shaking. Was she shaking? Yes. But she didn't know where she ended or where Jane began. It was fluid now, unconnected, hazy.

She kissed Jane's skin anywhere that she could reach. She could taste the salt of her lover, her anchor. And she knew that Jane was crying, even as she loved her, even as Maura knew that she'd never been happier, she could taste Jane's tears. Rushed away by the water flowing down her skin, mixing with the scent of lavender and hurt. She had given in completely. Her skin felt alive, her lips were numb but on fire. Jane's touch scalded her.

Was this what flying was? What the soul was? This was her soul. Here, in Jane's arms. Jane had given it to her. Was that how it worked? Was there a moment for everyone when you found that your body, hot, and heavy, and out of your control drew you to its mate? Where you fit into every crook, every cranny, every dip and ridge, and between breaths and blinks and heart beats until you were so in synch that you were not a _me _but an _us. _No longer an _I _but a _we. _A pair. A single, living, breathing, organism. A single soul. Two parts of a whole. Because here was her whole. Here was her missing piece that she'd never realized had been out of her grasp. And Jane was fitting into the space between Maura's thoughts and she had settled herself gently against Maura's heart and the doctor did not think she could survive ever being separated again. How had she ever stood being incomplete before now? How had she survived without her soul?

And she and Jane were crashing together, harder and harder until she was sure she would burst from the hurt of it all. Because it hurt. More than anything had ever hurt before, and through the steam rising all around them she realized that she was crying too. And that her heart was pounding in time to the one beside it and that her entire being was screaming for release. The pain was so intense that she could feel the blackness on the edge of her vision, until she was over the edge, the precipice and she and Jane were falling together, tied by some invisible thread and there was no more darkness only stars and the pain was throwing her over the cliff into ecstasy. And she should have been terrified, but Jane was there, Jane was with her, never again to be apart and so she was not scared. She wanted to laugh in relief, in release, but Jane was cradling her tightly and her lips were not her own and she had no breathe except for Jane.

And then she was settling back to earth and gravity was taking hold and Jane was whispering in her ear. _I love you. Forever. You are beautiful. So wonderful. Strong. I love you. Maura. My darling. My sweet. Maur, please. Love me. I am yours. I am yours. I love you. Maura._

The water had cooled. But she did not remove herself from Jane's grasp. _Yes. _She answered. _Yes. Jane, yes. I love you. I need you. Yes. Pretty girl. Always._

Jane did not let go, her hands sliding over the doctor's wet skin. _I am strong with you. You make me strong. You are mine._

_ Yes. Always. _Maura knew, without a doubt that it was not a lie. _Always. _The truth. A promise.

_I am yours, Maur. I love you._

_ Yes._

_ Forever._

_ Always._

Jane lifted her again, gently this time, delicately. Maura reached out and turned off the faucet and allowed Jane to carry her out, onto the bathroom rug. She did not let go. The detective walked them into the bedroom. To the bed. And she laid Maura down as though she were the most precious thing in existence. Slowly. Ever so slowly, she slid her way on top of the doctor, supporting herself on her forearms. Maura did not move. Even as Jane's breath ghosted across her quickly cooling skin, even as the detective kissed her hip bone and Maura's stomach retracted automatically. Even as Jane's fingers traced the doctor's knee and up, along her thigh, to rest three inches from Maura's pulsating center. Slowly. Slowly. Down. Her lips were memorizing Maura's body. Her curves. Her valleys and edges and the pieces of her that no one had ever bothered to love before.

It was slow. This time. Building and building. And her face flushed and her body grew warmer and warmer by degrees as Jane teased and loved and lavished her as if she were perfection. There was no rush. There was no fear. And her skin became slick with perspiration and desire, and she peaked higher than she ever had before, but Jane was there to bring her down once more, coming up Maura's body, even as she fell, to press their lips together. Steadying her.

To rest her ear against Maura's heart. To count the bones of her spine. Up and down. Up and down. There was no time. There was no space. Matter no longer existed. The laws of relativity, of gravity. The laws that defined humanity and kept the planets in orbit, that created a pulsing, pushing system of veins and arteries throughout the body, that organized a moral code, and kept the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea disappeared. And the universe may have been rushing towards chaos, towards destruction, but this was perfection, this was chaos in its purest form. And she lived and died in Jane's arms and she lost herself and found herself and she was shattered and pieced back together until she could not remember her name or where she had come from. And all she knew was Jane and that with Jane she was complete and that she never wanted to be so isolated again, so hopelessly empty.

Slow. Warm. Steady. Filling. Complete.

She was loved. She was being loved. Making love. This was not facts or figures or logics. This was pure emotion, emotion so deep she could not ever have understood until she'd experienced it. There were no words. She had no conscious thoughts. It was primal and the most controlled she'd ever been, but at the same time unrestricted, free.

_I love you. _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you._

Until she was falling asleep, as suddenly as she'd been awake and spinning at a million miles per hour. Her head resting against Jane's chest; they'd switched positions. She was being lulled into dreaming by the beating of Jane's heart, in time with her own. Jane's lips against her skin a whisper, a promise. _Sleep, my love. Until tomorrow. _

Her body was sinking into Jane's. Exhaustion was taking over. Her lover's arms were wrapped around her body, resting on her naked skin. Even as her eyes were growing heavy, even as she settled firmly against Jane, she could not decide where her breathing left off and Jane's began. There was no silence, but there was only silence, laying down upon them, trying but failing to filter into any cracks between their bodies. There was nothing and no one and they were alone, but at the same time it was everything and they were everyone and so completely together that all there was and might have been and would be existed in time and space, but it was not enough to overcome their love. And the stars in Jane's eyes were not disappearing, simply shining softer now and she was slipping away and the stars were dreams and she was gone.

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'My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.' - John Green


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: Y'all. I am SO sorry. You must know that Rizzles are my girls, and although I've been taking a slight vacation off in the land of Warehouse 13, exploring Bering and Wells, it's here that I will always return. It's just that the words have been a long time coming for this one. But we're almost to the home stretch. And things are going to pick up in about 3 more chapters. I hope you stick around. Really. Because I love writing these characters and I would love it if y'all enjoyed reading them. Anywho, happy reading and happy...Thanksgiving (?) in March. Love!**

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It was Thanksgiving. And the house was full to bursting. She'd fought it; hosting the holiday, but Maura had insisted. The medical examiner wanted nothing more than for their home to be warm and joyful and full of boisterous men and crazy mothers. And since she'd called it 'their' home, and clasped her hands together beneath her chin as a child might, Jane had, of course, given in. So, it was Thursday and their home was under attack.

Constance and Angela were in the kitchen and had been since dawn. What they were making that could possibly require rising before the sun was beyond her. The detective had offered to help, if only because Maura had told her to, but she'd quickly been shooed out of the way. With hands raised in surrender, and a swipe of the cream cheese frosting off of her mother's homemade carrot cake, she'd made a quick exit.

And now here she was, peering around the doorway of the living room. If she didn't live in the house, she might feel like a peeping tom or a nosy neighbor, watching events that she had no right to witness. But instead of giving away her position, she merely observed silently, one hand pressed over her heart.

The men had taken over the living room. Literally. She could not remember a time where a pack of guys had mobbed a room so quickly or efficiently. The television was on; the pre-game events were being covered. There were bottles of beer open on the coffee table. And a glass of water for Tommy. It looked like any other Thanksgiving day man-cave. Except for one thing. Well three things.

The first was that the TV had been muted, and closed captioning was scrolling across the screen. The second was that said bottles of beer had all been placed neatly on costers. And the third. Well, the third reason this particular living room scene was so striking was, quite simply, the presence of Maura.

Maura. Her girlfriend was the real reason Jane was lurking like a creeper out of sight, with a bloom of warmth in her chest, and what felt suspiciously like tears pricking at her eyes. The tiny woman, looking even smaller surrounded by all that testosterone, was lying on the couch, asleep. It had been a rough night last night. She was almost finished with this second round of chemo; only two more treatments to go. And her body was about ready to quit. Jane hated seeing her like this; withdrawn, quiet, always so very still. She was the opposite of the Dr. Isles that Jane remembered. That woman had been lively and exuberant and naively excited about the silliest things. The person laying on the couch was someone else, a shell of the woman she loved. Jane shook her head to clear away the images of the night before. She wasn't picturing last night; she was seeing today, and today was wonderful.

Because Maura was asleep, her hatted head resting on a pillow which was propped against Frankie's lap. Her middle brother was holding himself still, barely breathing, his back straight as he stared at the TV. Jane knew that he wasn't taking in anything on ESPN, too focused on not disturbing the woman resting against him. The sight was almost too ridiculous. At the other end of the couch, Tommy had Maura's feet in his lap. And although not as rigid as his brother, he was, quite apparently, controlling any and all desire he had to be shouting at the screen or jumping out of his seat in consternation or excitement. Jane was not sure she'd ever seen her brothers act so reserved during Thanksgiving football.

Frost was in the chair to the side, and although it looked like he was into the coverage, Jane noticed that he turned his head ever so slightly to the side once every ten seconds. He was checking on Maura, making sure the doctor was still asleep. And every time he satisfied himself that she was still resting peacefully, he glanced back towards the screen quickly. He did not realize that Jane was watching him, or that she wanted to hug him because of those quick looks that he pretended weren't happening.

Korsak had just reentered the living room from the kitchen, having been rejected from the mothers' domain more speedily than Jane had. And as he passed the couch, he grabbed the extra throw blanket from the back of the sofa and laid it gently over the sleeping occupant. Letting it flutter down into place with the ease of a man who had covered many a sleeping child, before taking his own seat across from Frost.

Jane had been watching the scene for a good ten minutes, unwilling to enter the room and break up the peace that had settled over its occupants, unwilling to disturb the protective bubble her brothers and her partners had managed to create in silence. She had never been so thankful for the four of them in all her life.

"Jane," she jumped at the sudden interruption of her spying and had to resist the urge to snap to attention and salute. "Might I have a word?" She turned to find Richard Isles framed in the doorway of Maura's study.

Although the man had been in Boston for nearly two weeks now, he and Jane had shared no more than polite words between them. Yet even that was enough to convince her that Richard Isles was not a man to be trifled with. He was a genius for one thing. And, well, rich for another. And he held himself how Jane imagined a king might. And although usually she scoffed at such ridiculous postures and people, Richard Isles carried himself in such a way that one knew immediately that he was not merely putting on airs. He actually was a genius. And a world famous philanthropist and lecturer. But he was also quiet and humble, much like his daughter, and he did not draw attention to himself. He was both dignified and intimidating and Jane had admitted to his daughter several days before that she was just a tiny bit afraid of him. Maura had laughed at her, actually laughed. In her face. And Jane had pouted. At least until Maura kissed her on the cheek, and beneath her jaw, and that place behind her ear...she felt herself blushing at the memory.

"Jane?" He asked again, and when she worked up the courage to meet his eye, she found that he'd raised one eyebrow in question. Maura raised her eyebrow like that. Jane chuckled internally. So many of this man's mannerisms were mirrored by his daughter. If Jane had never met Patty Doyle, she'd have a tough time believing Richard Isles was not Maura's biological father.

"Cer-Certainly, sir." The 'sir' was automatic and she nearly cringed when she murmured the title. She hated calling people, 'sir.' But, Dr. Isles was a different story. The 'sir' was simply an extension of who he was.

"Perhaps in here?" And he gestured to the open study door.

She nodded mutely, allowing him to usher her in to a study that he seemed to have taken over since his arrival. He and Constance were staying at the Elliot in downtown Boston, but they'd been spending most of their days at the house, especially while Angela was at the café and Jane was working. Usually, when she got done for the day, she'd find Maura and her mother in the living room, talking, or watching something on television, or else the doctor would be napping while her mother started dinner. But, Richard was always conspicuously absent when she got home and Maura had told her that he'd taking a liking to her abandoned study. He was a busy man and had a lot of work to do, even if he had relocated to Boston for the immediate future. Maura had seemed unperturbed by this, his apparent lack of engagement, but Jane had been a bit annoyed by it all.

That was, until Tuesday, when she'd come home from the precinct for lunch to surprise her girlfriend. She'd snuck in through the front door and had been ready to burst into the living room, when she'd been brought up short by the sound of a man's voice, deep and smooth, echoing from the room. Peering around the corner, she'd been shocked to find the older gentleman reclining in one of the chairs, glasses perched on the end of his noise, reading _Robin Hood _aloud in a very convincing, very theatrical British accent. Maura had been giggling, like real life, out loud giggles at her father's exaggerated movements.

She'd admitted to witnessing the event that night, in between pulling back the covers to climb into bed and switching off the light, when Maura asked her point blank why she'd been so quiet all evening. And the medical examiner had repressed a smile at her lover's obvious anxiety about having possibly intruded on such a private moment.

_"He reads to me every day," she explained easily. "Since, well..." she could no longer make out the tiny font herself. Yes. "Silly things really. Like Robin Hood today. Or King Arthur. Stories for children." Now it was her turn to be embarrassed._

But, Jane had felt her heart swell for this woman who thrived on facts and figures, and who still, secretly, beneath the polished veneer that was the socialite, adored the stories from when she was a kid. Who still let herself get lost in fairytale worlds and mythical lands far far away. It was adorable, and endearing, and if Jane thought it was possible to love someone more than infinity, if the logical doctor had not told her it was impossible, she might have fallen for Maura even harder in that moment.

_"You're wonderful," she whispered, reaching to entwine their hands beneath the covers and pulling Maura closer to her. She kissed her shoulder. "And I love you." _

But even though she'd seen with her own eyes Richard Isles acting like a real life human being, she was still slightly afraid of the intimidating man. He'd settled himself behind the large oak desk at this point, and Jane was left to perch on the edge of one of the hard backed leather chairs facing him.

"Scotch?" he asked, indicating the tumbler held in his own hand.

"I- sure." Jane drank beer. She _liked _beer. But, she wanted Dr. Isles to like her. No, more than that, she wanted his approval, some sign of validation from him that he approved of her relationship with Maura. Or else that he didn't. Either way, she wanted to know. It wouldn't change anything between her and the ME, but it would be nice to know where she stood with the man.

"Happy Thanksgiving," the older man intoned, leaning back in his seat.

"Thank you, too, sir. I mean! You, too. Sir." Jane wished for half a second that she, too, was as relaxed as he seemed to be. She was a homicide detective for the Boston PD and she was sitting in her own house for God's sake. She ate guys like Richard Isles for breakfast. Yet here she was, all bumbling sentences and mixed up words. It was frustrating and she found that she was rubbing the palm of her left hand angrily with the fingers of her right. Directly above the scar Charles Hoyt had left her with.

"I didn't ask you in here to make you uncomfortable, Detective."

If she knew him better, she might think the gentleman looked amused. She forced her hands to still, and, not for the first time since entering the quiet room, she wished for Maura to be sitting beside her, soft hand in her own.

"Well, then, why?" She managed. "If I might ask."

Dr. Isles appraised her from above the rim of the glass held loosely in his hand. "You are dating my daughter. Is that correct?"

She nodded.

"And I believe that it is customary for the father to attempt to ascertain any and all intentions of would be suitors."

She heaved an internal sigh of relief. This was just about some age-old intimidation ritual. She could handle that.

"So," he paused, "Detective Rizzoli, might I ask what your intentions are regarding my daughter."

She was ready to simply blurt out some tried and true response, get the guy off her back so she could go back out to the living room. Some quick, half-sarcastic, half-serious reply that Maura would berate her for later. But, the question brought her up short. No one had asked her yet what her intentions were. No one had asked her to put into words exactly how she felt about the genius doctor sleeping a few rooms over. She looked down at the hard wood of the desk top, thinking. "I-" she began, but she stopped. "Your daughter is - that is to say that - well, it's - Maura," she finished lamely, glancing up to find the father staring at her. "My intentions, sir, are...to love her. Because I do, I love her." This is not enough. "She's been...hurt...before," and Jane does not clarify by whom.

The old man, because he looked suddenly much older at Jane's statement gave an imperceptible nod for her to continue.

"And what she's going through right now," Jane waved her hand in space to indicate... everything. "It's hurting her. And, I can't-I can't," she closed her hands into fists over empty air, "I am incapable of taking away that hurt. But I _can _make sure the past does not repeat itself. Sir." She looked up to meet his gaze strongly.

"My intentions towards your daughter are to love her until she does not remember what it feels like to be alone. My intentions are to convince her that she truly is as wonderful and good as she seems to be. That she is not worthy of anyone who does not appreciate everything that she is: smart, honest, kind, beautiful," she choked a bit on the last one. "My intentions are to continue loving your daughter, sir, until she won't have me any longer. And then, I intend to continue loving her. Because she is the most amazing woman I have ever met. She is strong, so, so strong," her voice broke. "And I am in awe of her and all that she is."

She debated continuing, but decided it was time for her to put all her cards on the table. No holding back. "I wake up every morning afraid that today will be the day she realizes what a mistake she's made, to love someone like me. And every morning, I think I fall a little bit more in love with her. I-I didn't even realize, sir," she stared at her hands, "what it was to love someone more than yourself, than your whole being. But with your daughter, with Maura, I understand. She makes everyone around her _better. _She makes _me _better. And I will do everything in my power to protect her." She stopped suddenly, chest heaving as though she had been sprinting.

Jane does not share feelings. She wears the cool shield of sarcasm well. But the detective has been undone by this simple question, incapable of simply shutting up. She feels full, having released these words into the air. Full instead of empty. So full of this giddy emotion that it causes her stomach to jump up and done and her heart to beat faster and her head to feel light. So full of love, the sappy thought coming unbidden to her mind, that she can feel it seeping out of all of her cracks, all of the wholes left behind by Dean, and punched through her by Charles Hoyt, and etched into her by all the murderers she's encountered over the years. And this love is sealing up those holes. Maura Isles is fixing all of her cracks, repairing her before she even knew she was that close to shattering.

"I love her," it comes out as a whisper. A plea for this man to understand.

She waited, staring at the full glass in front of her, until he let out a sigh. "I see." His tone was difficult to decipher, so she looked up, studying his body language.

"She loves you very much," he agreed, and Jane felt some hidden part of her sing.

"And Constance has told me about the two of you. And I've seen it-"

"Seen what? Sir," she asked.

"It's like magnets." She looked at him blankly. "The two of you. I've never seen Maura this way before. She looks for you above all others when she enters a room. The two of you are forever leaning towards one another. I don't think you even realize that it's happening, but it's quite clear to anyone else nearby. She, for lack of a better term, glows when you are close." Jane was quite sure that Richard Isles was now feeling nearly as uncomfortable as she was ten minutes before. "I'm sorry," he admitted, "that I asked you such a ridiculous question."

The detective was confused at the sudden change in topic.

"It did not need to be voiced. To even be considered. Will you hurt her?"

"No." Simple, yet true.

"Will you continue to care for her as you do now?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?"

"With all that I am."

"Good then. She needs you, Detective."

This was not the first time someone has told her this, and once more she answered as she always did, "Not as much as I need her, sir." And she thought that Richard Isles might be the first one to actually understand that this is not something she simply says because it fits appropriately in the blank, but that it is a truth more honest than any other.

With that, it appeared the interview was over, because Richard Isles raised his drink in toast, waiting until Jane lifted her own to meet it with a clinking of crystal, and then he took a small sip of the scotch, one which Jane mirrored. "You should get back out there," he released her.

She nodded, setting her glass down and standing up. But she paused at the door, "Sir?" she turned to look back at him over her shoulder. "Maura is-" She paused, unsure how to continue.

He waved her away, "I know, detective. I understand."

Jane isn't even sure what she was going to say. Maura is strong? Maura is perfect? Maura is the only person I am ever going to truly love? Maura is my better half? Maura is sick and she might die and I am at a loss as to how to save her from something so insidious and evil? Maura is the one person who has managed to save me? But Richard Isles has agreed to all of these things. He understands them all, and so Jane gives him a slight smile of gratitude before slipping out the door and back to the world of muted football and quiet Thanksgiving celebration.

* * *

Maura stares around the table silently, taking it all in. This is her family. These people, who have shown her what laughter is, who have defined the words friendship and loyalty and love. These are the people she would trust above all others. The people who would never, ever let her fall. Her chest feels stretched by some unseen force, full, and as if there is something within her that wants to burst out of her. To tell them all how much she appreciates them, how much she loves them. But she resists the urge. They are at dinner. It would be somewhat inappropriate.

She feels Jane's rough palm slide into her own under the table. The detective has been watching her all night. She has felt the dark eyed gaze on her. And, although the detective has become a practiced professional at watching without hovering, Maura has felt her to be a little closer tonight, a bit more present. Ever since Jane came home from the Dirty Robber and caused Maura to see the stars hidden in her eyes, her detective has hated to leave her side, and Maura has been loathe to let her. She wants Jane close to her. She feels safe when the brunette is nearby. Safe and loved from the warmth that the detective emits in her direction in wave.s

She gives her lanky brunette a smile. She is tired, yes, and last night was rough, but she wouldn't miss Thanksgiving dinner for all the world. She can make through a single meal.

"Dundunnadun!" Angela Rizzoli proclaims, entering the dining room, a thirteen pound turkey held proudly on the platter in her hands. Constance trails her with the carving knife, and Maura is not certain that she has ever seen her mother beam, actually beam. A round of applause fills the room for the two women. And the two of them walk over to set the bird before Jane.

The detective looks taken aback for a moment, glancing across the table to meet Richard Isle's eye. Maura cannot interpret the silent conversation the two have. Something about it seems relaxed, familiar even, and Maura realizes that they have talked. Finally.

"Shouldn't Richard do it?" Jane asks the mothers, indicating the father present, but they don't even bother to look at him when they shake their heads in unison.

"Of course not, Janie," Angela explains as one might to a five year old. "When you host Thanksgiving, you carve the turkey."

Maura can feel Jane tense beneath her hand. And she knows how Jane will object before the brunette even gathers herself to speak. So, she leans over, "_We _are hosting Thanksgiving, Jay. In _our _home." She is speaking softly enough so that no one else can hear her, and Jane's body has automatically stretched towards her. "And it is the host's job," she kisses a cheek gently, before pulling away, satisfied that her words have had the desired effect when Jane picks up the knife gingerly.

"Oh, but first!" Angela claps her hands with glee and there is a collective groan from those of the younger generation around the table at any more delays. "We all have to go around and say what we're thankful for." She has taken her seat on the other side of her eldest child. "I'll go first! Hmmm," she taps a finger to her chin thoughtfully.

"Ma, c'mon," Tommy mumbles, sounding as if he is in agony. "We wanna eat."

"Hush you," she shushes him. "I am thankful that Mr. Stanley gave me the day off today," Maura can practically sense Jane rolling her eyes beside her and she lays a calming hand on her girlfriend's arm. "so that I can spend it with all of my favorite people." There is a round of appreciative nods.

Then they go around the table. Frankie is thankful for all the help Vince has given him in preparation for his detective's test. Tommy is thankful for turkey, in general. Frost for home cooked meals. Vince for adoptive families, "And donuts," Barry mutters but everyone hears him. Richard gives a soft smile before murmuring that he is thankful for magnets, which no one seems to understand except Jane because she gives a startled, yet appreciative look. Constance is grateful to be able to spend the holiday with her children, and when she says children Maura is certain that her heart stops beating for several seconds because children implies more than one, implies that Jane, too, is her child. She wants to hug her mother.

"Your turn, Maur," Jane gives her a slight nudge and she is forced to wipe away the sudden saltwater gathering itself in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, I-" and suddenly words are failing her because how do you explain to the people you love how grateful you are for them? And she has never known words to be inadequate until she is put in this position. "I-" Jane's fingers are gripping her own gently. Maura looks around the room, taking in all of the smiling faces turned her way. They are waiting, all of them, for what she might say. "I'm just thankful to be here, with all of you, celebrating such a wonderful holiday with my family."

"Hear, hear!" Tommy cheers loudly, and everyone laughs while Maura glances down, her face flushed in embarrassment.

"Hear, hear," Jane whispers just for her.

"Alright, Janie. Your turn," her mother encourages her.

"Well," and Jane takes a deep breath, "I'm thankful for family, and Vince, turkey, and friends, and donuts, and magnets, and parents, and all of you fine folks," she glances around the table quickly.

But her mother isn't having it. "What are _you _thankful for?" she orders with a glare.

Jane wilts a bit under the power of the stare. Before looking down thoughtfully at the stuffed bird awaiting her knife. Maura can pinpoint the exact moment when Jane comes to a decision, because her jaw tightens and her back straightens imperceptibly in her chair. The brunette looks up swiftly, her eyes coming to rest on Maura, and the ME feels something in herself tense before relaxing. The emotion in those black eyes is overwhelming. Maura forgets her name. She forgets what the autonomic nervous system is or the functions it controls. She forgets that there are seven other people in the room besides the detective sitting beside her. She forgets that there is anything called cancer or glioma or chemotherapy. She forgets the elements of the periodic table and the order of an autopsy. She forgets everything except Jane.

"I'm thankful for you," the detective's words come out in her low growl, honest and heartfelt and Maura feels herself sink. "I'm thankful for you, Maur." And if a blind man had never seen love, or a deaf man had never heard it uttered, or a sightless, senseless beast had wandered upon their dining room at that moment, they would, for the first time, experience love, in its truest form. Raw, unshuttered.

"I love you," but the words are only secondary to the emotion she emits.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Jane whispers.

They are staring at one another and time seems to have slowed to a crawl and if Maura could stay in this moment forever, she might.

It is not until her father murmurs, "Magnets," under his breath and Tommy drops his fork onto his plate, the clatter echoing over the party that the spell is broken. Time seems to speed up, making up for lost seconds. And Jane has pulled away before Maura even knows that she'd leaned closer and her girlfriend is picking up the giant knife and carving away and Angela is already yelling at her sons while Barry makes fun of Vince. And it is familiar and wonderful and makes her heart ache.

She glances over to find her father smiling at her gently. This man who has been somewhat inaccessible her entire life, always working or off gallivanting around the globe being brilliant and important. She finds that they have more in common than she realized now that he has begun spending his afternoons with her, reading and talking, debating the merits of this or that study, laughing, getting to know one another. She finds that although she has always respected him, always been a little bit afraid of him, even as she'd laughed at Jane when the detective admitted to feeling as such, although she always placed him on a pedestal above all the rest, she has never truly known her father. And that in the past week she has learned more about him than she had in the thirty years previously. And she has found that she enjoys his company, that he is a wonderful conversationalist, an excellent, excellent father. The look he is giving her is one of fatherly affection and she feels her heart expand at the sight. She has never seen him looking at her that way, or maybe she never noticed. And she follows his line of sight when he shifts to look at Jane, and then back to her. And he gives a slow nod as if to say, '_Yes. She is one of the good ones.' _

And Maura looks demurely into her lap and then back up with a grin, beaming and brilliant and incapable of being held back. _'She's perfect. I love her.' _

And then he glances at Constance and smiles back at his daughter. _'I know the feeling.' _And they grin at one another like two fools in love. Because they are.

* * *

**AN2: Thoughts? Fears? Daydreams? **

**PS - Y'all are wonderful. But actually. **


	39. Chapter 39

"So you're saying there's been no change?"

Maura tightens her grip on Jane's hand when the question leaves her detective's lips.

Ryan looks apologetic and frustrated, tired and a bit upset. He doesn't wear the mask they give you in Medical School when he is with them anymore. Jane asked him one time to cut the bullcrap and he'd agreed with a smile and a nod. They were very nearly friends now. On some sort of wavelength that Maura, although he is her doctor and Jane is her girlfriend, is not privy to. "I'm sorry," he sighs. And he really is.

"Well, so what does that mean?" Jane turns her hand over so she and Maura are palm to palm. Closer. She needs the contact. They both do.

He taps his fingers on his desk, picking up the scan to stare at it once more. He isn't actually seeing it. "There's still the third round. And we'll switch up the cocktail. Hopefully that will do the trick."

There is silence. The "_If it doesn't?" _lingers between them all. Maura should say something. This meeting is about her after all. About the disease ravaging her body.

"Right now, the most important thing is that you're taking it easy," Ryan directs this in her direction. "Rest. Relax. Try to recuperate as much as possible over the next two weeks."

She nods. That is all she does anyway. Rest. Relax. Lay on the couch while life goes on around her. If she had a bit more energy, she might feel frustrated, angry enough to want to rebel against her situation. Instead, she leans across the divide separating her from Jane, and she feels her body sink into the tall, angular form beside her, Jane's arm coming up automatically to rest around her. Cradling her as much as is possible in the professional space.

"And so we just...wait?" Jane asks again. She is angry. Maura can hear it in the dip in her raspy voice at the end of the question.

"Yes. And we'll call next week to check in. But, until then, we just wait."

"Ryan," Jane's tone is warning.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, Jane," and it is both not enough and more than enough. "Maura."

She nods again, trying to stay focused on Jane's arm around her and not the pounding at the base of her skull.

He does not need to explain that her body is growing weaker, giving in to the chemicals that are pumped throughout her bloodstream. Poisoning her from the inside out. He does not need to tell them because the evidence is right there for the world to see. For Jane to feel with her strong hands, for Maura to experience every time she stands, every time she takes a breath. He does not need to tell them that there is the chance she won't even make it through the third round, that the third time won't necessarily be the charm in this case. That they might not have enough time for the third round to try for miracles. He does not need to tell them that if this is not successful, their options are limited because focused radiation would do more harm than good. He does not say for the third time that, unless the tumor shrinks, surgery will more than likely kill her. He does not use numbers or statistics, because, like the professional mask, this is something Jane abhors. He does not need to say all of this, his apology does it for him.

They all sit in silence for a moment. Jane is staring at the carpet, worrying her bottom lip. Maura lays her head down on the stronger woman's shoulder when it becomes too heavy to hold up on her own, and as if that is some unspoken cue, Jane and Ryan both begin to move, standing and reaching out to shake hands. It is left handed because Jane has yet to let go of Maura.

"Call anytime," he tells them both. "Any questions, any changes, anything."

Jane sighs in response and finally lets go. Maura feels her absence immediately, and even the coat being slid over her shoulders is not enough to recreate the sense of warmth and protection that Jane elicits. "Thank you," she murmurs, and it is Jane's fingers along her back that say, '_You're welcome.' _

"See ya around, Doc," Jane half plays to the man in front of them, because this is how they end all of their appointments. On a half-hearted light note, trying to pretend that it hasn't been disappointing news once again.

"Jane," he nods. "Maura," he smiles.

And they are gone, stepping carefully out into the hallway and heading for the elevators. Jane is holding her hand, a gesture that has become unconscious and immediate. A reflex.

Maura focuses on that contact, grounding her. She had never understood before Jane that sometimes it is not words that decry love. Jane is the first lover Maura has ever had who does not buy her flowers or take her out for expensive dinners. Who does not say she is beautiful only when Maura has spent four hours doing her hair and applying her makeup and picking out the perfect designer dress. She has never had a lover like Jane. Jane, who was once so easily embarrassed by simple public displays of affection. Jane, who is stoic and strong in the face of evil, but who breaks down at night when she thinks Maura is sleeping because of a demon she cannot fight. Jane, who pats a tortoise on the head every time she passes him, who hides behind sarcasm and strength. Jane who is soft in all the right places, whose edges are not as sharp as they appear. Jane, who is bumbling and fumbling when it comes to words, but who moves through physical expressions of love as though she has been dancing all her life. Jane, who is both graceful and gawky, gorgeous, and shy. Jane, who whispers _i love you_s with the constellations in her dark brown eyes. Who tells Maura that she is beautiful as dawn makes its way through their bedroom window, in later afternoon, and over dinner. Who hides _forever_s in the spaces between their fingertips while they hold hands tightly in hospital wings, in the car, wrapped so closely around one another on the couch that they are one person. Jane is the first lover that Maura has ever had who makes her feel loved with every glance and every breath. She never understood before Jane that love is the constant struggle between exalting in her wings and flying too close to the sun.

Because she never knew, before Jane kissed her skin and left her marked with sunshine that love could be both eternal and fragile. She feels the threat of an ending whenever her detective smirks at her or shrugs embarrassedly as she hands Maura a perfect leaf, veins stretching symmetrically in a sea of orange. Whenever her throat closes in terror at the thought that there will not be enough time for her to explain in silent prose how wonderful she finds the woman beside her, how outstanding this other human being is. How, in all her flaws, Maura finds peace and beauty and simple elegance. There is not enough time. And she did not know before. Not until Jane started holding her hand.

Jane leaves her in the lobby with a peck on the cheek while she goes to collect the car. It is snowing. Maura watches her detective walk outside, the wind pulling at her instantly, whipping her coat around her waist, tugging at brown curls. Her shoulders are hunched agains the weather and the cold and the bad news is that is piling up against them both. She is tired. It has already been a long day. But she pulls the phone out of her pocket anyway and presses the speed dial button, holding it up to her air in nervous anticipation.

"Angela?" she says when the matriarch answers the phone. "Yes, we've just finished. Listen, I know I asked for your help, but I was thinking that perhaps we ought to do it today." She paused, looking once more to where Jane has disappeared around the corner. "I think we _need _to do it today."

And when Jane returns with the car several longs moments later, with the heat blasting and dried tear tracks on her cheeks that she has been unable to hide, wearing a smile that is too bright, Maura is able to meet the smile with a softer, more real one of her own.

"Ready?" Jane asks, sweeping in through the sliding doors, bringing in the snowflakes with her.

"I love you," Maura whispers, because although she is fluent at interpreting Jane's unspoken words, she prefers to speak them aloud. Jane misses a step at the glow in the ME's eyes. Maura is excited and she wants Jane to feel it, too, even if it leaves the detective confused. "Let's go home," she orders, kissing Jane on the cheek as she steps past.

Jane responds brilliantly, although she does not know where this sudden excitement has come from. She has always been so good at reacting. "Your chariot," she murmurs, opening the car door for the smaller woman, and Maura knows this is, "_I love you, too." _And Jane's hand in hers on the way home, her curious glances that Maura avoids by looking out the window because she doesn't want to spill the peas, or beans, or whatever it is, tell her that she is loved.

* * *

"Ma!" Jane calls as they clomp through the front door. "We're home!" She turns to help Maura with her coat, but the ME shakes her head no and holds the material closer around her. Jane is confused. The other woman has been acting strange since the hospital, and she won't say why. Normally, all it would take is some gently prying on the detective's part; Maura has never been good at secrets, and she can't lie, but this is something else. She seems excited. So, Jane is going along with it.

Jane is feeling anything but excited. The news from Ryan was less than ideal, and although she feels like she should be used to it by now, it still comes as a bit of a shock when things end up being shitty. Once, she might have run, like that she did that first time. But, she's matured now she thinks with a rueful grin. And so she'd tried to contain her disappoint as much as possible. And she'd taken the opportunity afforded to her on her walk to get the car to process the sharp jolt of fear.

Fear is a constant these days. Fear that is different from the fear she feels every time she is out in the field chasing down a perp with her gun drawn, fear that is different from the time the precinct was under siege, fear that is more piercing than even Hoyt was able to elicit from her. She lives with fear now; it is her constant companion. She knows it exists, but she only allows it to manifest itself at specific times. After a meeting with her girlfriend's neurologist when she is alone for the first time. In the shower in the mornings. The third mile of her daily run. The rest of the time, she contains it, shutting it away in a compartment buried deep within her brain.

So, if Maura is excited about something, then Jane will bury her fear for now. She is certain that the ME has seen it; she always does. But the insightful doctor won't bring it up, not until they are in bed under cover of darkness, wrapped around one another tightly enough to keep the demons at bay. Because although Jane prides herself on being tough, Maura has a way of breaking through her detective's defenses and bringing Jane's carefully constructed walls crumbling down. For now though, Maura has a secret and Jane is determined to discover what it is, even if it means playing along.

"Oh! Excellent!" Her mother is bustling towards them and she has a bag on one arm and a picnic basket on the other.

"Ma?" Jane asks warningly. There is a dangerous twinkle in her mother's eyes. And a matching one in Maura's she finds when she looks at her girlfriend questioningly.

"Here," the older woman dumps her baggage unceremoniously in Jane's arms. It is heavy and she very nearly stumbles.

"Jesus," she mutters.

"Now. You two kids have fun. And don't stay out too late. I expect you to have her home by ten, young lady," this is directed at Maura.

"I will," the ME smiles.

Jane looks between the two women. Confused. And suddenly worried. "What-?" she manages.

"Go put that stuff in the car," Angela orders. "Maura will be along shortly."

"Ma, I-"

"Go on! And no peeking!" She is shooed out the door of her own home before she can put up a fight. Heaving a sigh, she trudges towards the car and pops the trunk, sliding all the gear inside. She glances back towards the front door, but there is still no sign of Maura, so she gets in the car and turns it back on.

* * *

"Are you sure that you're up for this, dear?" Angela asks, studying her. "You look tired."

"When do I not look tired?" It comes out a bit harsher than she intended. She forces her face to soften in apology. "Thank you, Angela," she lays hand on the older woman's arm, "for getting everything together."

"Of course!" She is forgiven. "Just take care. And have fun! You both need it."

They do. She heads out to the car. Jane is sitting in the driver's seat, staring at her phone, but she leans over and pops open the other door as Maura approaches. The exhaust is disappearing into the chill air, and the snow is falling gently around her. She turns to wave once to Angela before sliding into the passenger seat, and the matriarch stands framed in the doorway until the car has disappeared down the street.

* * *

"You want to tell me where we're going?" Jane finally asks. Maura had pointed her out of the driveway and then settled back into her seat with a pleased air about her.

"The Commons," Maura says satisfactorily.

"The Commons?"

"Yes. Because, you," and Maura reaches over to entwine their fingers, "are taking me on a date."

Jane raises an eyebrow. "I see. And what, exactly do I have planned for this date?"

"Ohh, lots of fun things." And when she glances over, Maura is smirking at her. They have never been on a date, not an official one at least. They'd done things together as friends. Yoga and spa days, dinner, pizza and a movie, shopping, she'd even managed to drag Maura to a baseball game or two. But they've never done any of those things since becoming a couple.

"Do I get an itinerary?" She jokes knowing Maura's penchant for scheduling, and she grins when the organized ME punches her weakly in the shoulder.

"Just drive," the passenger orders.

"Yes, captain," Jane agrees, bringing the hand in her own up to her lips for a quick kiss. "Whatever you say."

* * *

She whooshes to a stop and grabs ahold of the boards. "Are you sure you're alright," she asks for what must be the hundredth time. But, Maura, cheeks pink from the cold, red knitted hat pulled low over her brow, looking absolutely adorable wrapped in the thick quilt Angela had packed for them, merely claps in delight.

"I'm fine," she assures the other woman. "Now go. Impress me!" She waves towards the crowded rink.

Jane smirks at her. "Watch and learn," and then she is off, racing away, weaving in and out of the little kids and their parents, teenagers holding hands, adults lazily working their way around the circle. She has not skated in what feels like forever. The wind blowing in her hair, the feel of the sharp metal of her skates gliding effortlessly across the ice. It is liberating. She can practically feel the anxiety of the past several months slipping away. She has always loved being out on the ice, working her body until her chest feels tight in the cold and her breath comes in quick gasps.

_She'd opened the bag when they'd arrived at the Commons to find her old hockey skates, freshly sharpened waiting for her. "Where are yours?" she'd asked Maura who was leaning against the car, smiling at her enthusiastic expression. The smaller woman had shaken her head, reaching out and picking up the blanket. _

_ "I just want to watch you," she'd said._

_ Jane had immediately felt bad. "Maur, no. Let's do something we both want to do."_

_ "_This_ is what I want to do," she'd responded. _

_ Jane hadn't been able to resist wrapping her in a hug. "Are you sure?" she'd asked into the other woman's neck._

_ "Positive," Maura promised. _

And Jane couldn't deny that Maura certainly looked as if she were enjoying herself. She was smiling; a grin that reached her hazel eyes and made her seem to absolutely glow in the gathering gray light of the afternoon. It is almost five and is growing dark already. She goes around a few more times, her hands outstretched, pretending for just a few moments that she is flying. This is what freedom feels like. There are no responsibilities out on the ice. No job, no murder or death or people who break the law. There are only two thin slivers of metal keeping her tethered to the ground. The rest of her is free to soar.

She steps off the ice and onto the rubber mats placed along the bleachers. She is flushed and breathing hard and her heart feels light. "Did you see?" she asks, bright-eyed and transported back to childhood.

"I saw!" Maura answers, playing the part of proud adult well. She gestures and Jane trips her way over to her, accepting her warm hug. "I saw."

Jane pulls back to find that Maura's hazel eyes are shining with more than joy. There are tears that are hovering on the edge of the abyss, held back. Controlled.

"You were flying, Jay," she whispers, and all of the other people have disappeared. They are alone in the quiet of a late winter afternoon. The shouting of countless children has been suddenly silenced. The glow of the lights hung above the rink are muting the sharp edges of the bleachers.

Jane presses herself closer.

"You were absolutely wonderful." The detective reaches up at the awestruck words to kiss cold lips. "I love you," and she feels more than hears the words, reverent against her own.

She slides one arm around Maura's waist, and the other beneath her knees. She braces her knees, and lifts the tiny woman, so light, easily into her arms, leaving the quilt behind all before Maura can gasp in surprise. Carefully, oh so carefully, toting her precious cargo, she steps across the mats and back towards the ice. Maura feels lighter than a child in her arms. Maura has her arms wrapped around Jane's neck and she has not once looked away from the love in Jane's eyes towards the ground. Jane grins at her, "Do you trust me, Maur?"

The ME responds by placing her lips against Jane's cheek. "Of course."

And then they are out on the ice. And all of the other people are back, pulsing around them, but Jane is focused on the ice beneath them and Maura has eyes only for her detective. Maura is laughing, bright and sharp and spinning out away from them, and Jane is grinning. There is no chance that she will fall, not with the doctor held tightly to her chest. They go around once, twice, three times, before Jane brings them back to the bench and sets Maura carefully down on her blanket. The ME scoots over and Jane slides into place beside her, removing her mittens and unlacing her skates, wiggling her toes in the cold air, and then pulling her boots on once more.

Meanwhile, Maura has managed to wrangle the overly large picnic basket up beside her and is rifling through its contents. She pulls out a thermos and a single metal mug. "Hot chocolate?" she asks her lover.

Jane pauses to close the distance between them, leaving Maura with a kiss, "Mmmm. Please."

Maura takes off her gloves and unscrews the lid, ignoring the way her hands shake. And Jane ignores it, too. They are having too much fun. She pours a glass of the warm liquid and takes a sip before passing the cup over to Jane. Their fingers touch as the exchange is made and they both suppress giggles. It is as if they are teenagers on their first, awkward outing together. It is wonderful. Jane slurps some, the chocolate sweet and cloying on her tongue, and when she pulls the cup away from her mouth, Maura reaches forward to wipe away the left behind chocolate mustache. Jane catches the delicate wrist in her hand before the ME can pull away, and the smaller woman blushes.

"You're beautiful," Jane assures her. And the doctor's blush deepens.

They share the rest of the cocoa, and then the soup that Angela has packed for them. Chicken noodle. Still warm. Jane tries not to notice that Maura doesn't finish hers. Instead she focuses on how cute the normally sophisticated woman looks drinking soup out of a mug.

And when they've finished and Maura has begun to shiver even with Jane's old BPD sweatshirt, her winter coat, and the quilt, Jane packs up the picnic basket. "Homeward bound?" She asks because she is certain that Maura is exhausted by now. It has been one of the longest days for the ME in quite awhile. And because, although she is having a wonderful time, she has a hard time imagining anything else that might make this impromptu date more enjoyable. That's why she is surprised when Maura shakes her head no.

"Not yet."

"What else have you got up that sleeve of yours, Dr. Isles?" She receives a blank stare in return. She heaves an overly dramatic sigh. "Alright, so it probably isn't up your sleeve per se..."

At that, the doctor smirks. "_Your_ sleeve, technically," and she indicates the old hoody.

The detective holds out a hand to help Maura off the bleachers and then swings her skates over one shoulder and hooks the picnic basket on an arm. Holding Maura's mittened hand in her free one, she waits patiently for the ME to rise and step down off the metal benches, still wrapped in the quilt. Then they head off towards the car when Maura points the way.

Once they're both settled in their seats, the brunette turns to face the other woman.

"Okay," Maura says. "So, we can either do this next thing or we can head home. It's up to you." She sounds nervous and a bit unsure.

Jane's heart melts a bit. "I'm game, Maur. Whatever you want to do."

"Alright. Here are the directions." She pulls out a folded piece of paper.

Jane studies them. It has multiple destinations on it. The first one is in a neighborhood she has never been to, over on the side of town near Maura's house.

"And when we get there, I'll explain the rest. Okay?" The vulnerability in her voice is endearing.

"Okay. You're the boss," Jane encourages, pulling out of the parking space and pointing the car in the direction of the first address. She flips on the radio and she doesn't even grimace when it's Christmas carols that meet her ears. It's only the first week of December, but already most of the stations have started playing 24 hours of carols. It's nice though. Tonight it's alright. To be driving through the snow, warm from the heater with Maura's hand in her own. It's quite possibly perfect.

Until they pull up outside of the first house, already bedecked with lights, which are flashing on and off in what appears to be random patterns. It's lovely against the white of the freshly fallen powder. She studies the house closely, waiting for Maura to explain.

"It's the light tour," the doctor's honey voice breaks the stillness inside the vehicle. "I know it's still a bit early in the season, but I thought it might be best to do it now."

"The light tour?" It sounds familiar, but she isn't sure that she's ever actually heard what it is.

"A bunch of houses volunteer each winter. They all decorate on the first of the year and synchronize their shows, and the city publishes the route. And if you turn the radio to," she flips the dial past several stations of static, until it lands on one playing "Have Yourself a Merry Christmas," "this station," Jane follows her glance towards the house, "they match up. See."

She does. "Oh. Wow." It's beautiful. And Maura looks gorgeous, framed by the white lights glancing off the snow, cheeks rosy, eyes bright. Jane takes her hand and holds on tightly. "Oh. Yes." She is at a loss for words.

They watch the show in silence for three songs, not letting go. It really is lovely. Finally, they pull away and drive to the next house, only a block away. This one is just as perfect, in white and purple.

"Have you ever done this before?" She asks softly.

"I thought it would be something we could do," Maura answers. "Just us."

"Lik-like our thing?"

"Like a tradition," Maura answers shyly. It is a dangerous word. Tradition. It implies repetition. More than one. It implies a future. And years to come.

"Tradition," Jane rolls the word around her mouth. It tastes melancholy. Hopeful. The doctor is staring at the center console, her mouth is pursed in a thoughtful frown. Jane places a single long finger beneath her chin and lifts until hazel eyes meet her own. "Tradition," she repeats. "Yes."

"Yes?" Maura breathes.

"Yes." It is a promise. "It will be a wonderful tradition."

"Okay."

"Okay," Jane brings their lips together, feather soft. She wraps a hand around the back of Maura's neck and pulls her closer, swallowing the moan the doctor released at the contact. Their mouths move together, easy, like puzzle pieces that have finally found their mate. The taste of Maura on her tongue, honey and vanilla is intoxicating. "But, I think _that's _my favorite tradition," she murmurs when they separate for air.

Maura gives her one last chaste kiss. "Mine, too," she agrees.

They go back to watching the light show. House after house, until it is fully dark and Maura has fallen asleep, her head resting against the window, pillowed on Jane's coat. The detective drives them home through the quiet city streets. Three inches have fallen so far, and everyone is home after a long day at work. The world seems muffled and peaceful. She takes her time on the way, driving slower than normal, appreciating the quiet that has fallen. She has not changed the radio station and the Christmas carols are still filling the car.

When they pull into the driveway, Jane cuts the engine and glances up at the house. It looks empty now, after all of those decorated ones on the tour. She'll have to get Frankie and Tommy over soon to string the lights. Maura usually hires people, but Jane won't stand for that. She and her brothers have been hanging the lights since they were teenagers. It's tradition.

She turns back to the sleeping form beside her, stroking a finger down a soft cheek. "I love you," she whispers, and Maura only shifts slightly in response. The detective feels her heart contract. "Best date ever," she says, because for the first time in months she remembers what it is like to simply enjoy the day. To delight in the small things. Maura's wide eyed grin as Jane showed off on the rink. The feeling of her girlfriend in her arms, the trust palpable between them. Hot chocolate. The way the snow landed on the tip of Maura's nose. Lights, white and bright and brilliant. Maura's eyes, shining even brighter. New traditions.

She slips out of the car and over to Maura's side, opening the door gently and then lifting the sleeping figure into her arms. Even in her half-asleep state, the doctor wraps her arms around her detective. "Jay," she mumbles.

"Shhh," Jane encourages. "Keep sleeping, pretty girl. You're safe. I've got you."

* * *

**AN: Happy fluffy date night! I've mapped it out and there are about ten chapters left to go. Some exciting (well, I hope it's exciting) drama-filled times coming your way! Love. **


	40. Chapter 40

**It's kinda short and it hasn't been edited because I've got class, but I wanted to get it up as soon as possible for you all. We're going places, peeps. Things are heating up. I can't believe some of y'all are still reading. It means the world to me to read your comments and reviews. My gratitude knows no bounds. Love.**

* * *

It's the last Saturday before the holiday by the time Jane has an afternoon free to hang up the Christmas lights. She's managed to rope Frankie and Tommy into helping her as well, and they're both on their way over to the house, except, "But, maybe we should call Ryan." She bites her lip anxiously. "He said if anything changed."

"It's just a little fever, Jay. Really." Maura is laying on the couch with her detective sitting beside her. The doctor's hazel eyes are a bit glassy, not as clear as they normally are and her face is flushed.

"Maur. I don't know," she was uncertain. "Little isn't really a medical term." They haven't had to deal with something like this yet, and she isn't sure how far she's allowed to push the other woman without stepping on her toes. She doesn't want to come off as too overprotective. She's been trying her hardest not to turn into her mother.

"I promise," the smaller woman placed a comforting hand on the brunette's arm. "If it goes up anymore, we'll call Dr. Wilde."

"Well, at least let me call the guys and cancel."

"No!" the ME shook her head, pulling herself up on the couch so she could look Jane in the eye. "Christmas is in three days. The homeowner's society is going to start calling to complain if we don't have the house decorated soon."

Jane cocked an eyebrow. "They'd actually do that?"

But Maura was all seriousness. "You do _not _want to be on the wrong side of those women, Jane. They are insane."

"Clinically?" she can't help teasing.

"That was hyperbole. But, they will call. And then you'll be forced to deal with them."

"Me?!" her raspy voice cracked in mock terror. "Why me? You're the one who speaks their language!"

"Exactly. So I suggest you stop worrying about me, and start worrying about the lights."

"Mauraa," she's reduced to pouting.

"Jane," the doctor's voice was firm, unyielding, and the detective knew better than to try to argue with that tone. "Your mother is here. I promise that I'm fine. It's a low fever." She stared at Jane, urging her to agree, to give in.

Jane tapped her fingers against Maura's leg in thought. But it's the doorbell that breaks her out of her contemplative stare down with the other woman. "It's like freaking mind control," she muttered, glancing away and over her shoulder in the direction of the front door.

She heard Maura hum in satisfaction and whipped around to face her again.

"You tell ma immediately, _immediately, _if anything changes. And I'm telling her to check your temp every thirty minutes."

"Ja-"

"I'm serious, Maur. Ryan said not to take any chances, and we're not going to. I'm not going to." She forced herself to soften, bending at the waist to press a light kiss to a warm forehead. When she pulled away, she sent a small smile across the space between them. "I'm not taking any chances with you," it was a promise.

"I know," Maura murmured.

Jane nodded, pleased they'd come to some sort of agreement.

"Yo, Janie! Let's go!" Tommy shouted into the house, having let himself in.

"What's the rush?" she yelled back, still not looking away from her detective.

"He's got a hot date," her middle brother's voice teased loudly.

There was a muffled thud and a loud exclamation of pain. Jane rolled her eyes. Maura giggled. "I better go make sure they don't hurt each other. It shouldn't take us too long. Three hours, tops."

"I'll hold you to that, Detective," the other woman whispered in a decidedly wicked way. Jane felt a shiver travel throughout her. Even fevered and sick wrapped in three layers of blankets and with a ridiculous knitted cap her ma had made, Maura did things to her that no one else had ever managed to. She bit back the need to taste the other woman's skin. Now wasn't the time.

She stood quickly, resisting temptation. "You sure you'll be alright."

"Yes! Yes, go," and the other woman reached out to push her away.

"Alright," and as she strode away, she couldn't help muttering to herself, "Don't eat the apple, Jane."

"What was that?" Maura called after her.

"Nothing, dear!" she singsonged, high tailing it around the corner before Maura could grab a pillow to throw at her. "Let's go, boys!" she ordered, when she entered the front hall to find them still locked in a silent wrestling match. Frankie's face was turning purple. She punched Tommy as she passed and started pulling on her winter gear. "Let's get this done."

"Yeah. Tommy's gotta try and make himself look pretty by seven."

"You're just jealous 'cause you haven't gotten any in months."

"Jesus," she groaned. "Boys. I'm surrounded by a bunch of idiotic children."

She knew they were grinning at one another behind her back as she opened the door. So, she spun around, assuming the most threatening expression she could muster, the one she wore when interrogating the nastiest perps. She smirked internally when they both gulped. "Lights. They're in the garage. Let's go!" They scampered out the door. Yup. She still had it. She swaggered out after them, quite pleased with herself.

* * *

"No, more to the left," her brother indicated.

Jane huffed. "I thought you were supposed to know your directions by now. How old are you again?"

"Two more inches. One more. Yeah. There. Perfect," Frankie ignored her jibing.

She tacked the string in place and then leaned back to rest against the roof in relief. She glanced up at the sky, wiping a drop of sweat from her brow. It was starting to get dark. They'd been at it for almost two hours.

"How did Pop do this before we came along?" Tommy grunted at her from his place on the opposite ladder.

She gave him a shrug. "I'm pretty sure ma and pop's house was a bit smaller than this one. Less work."

"Ya think," Tommy groaned.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. This was harder than it looked. "Thanks for your help, brother. I know you probably had better things to be doing with your day off."

But his face relaxed at her words. "Nah," he disagreed. "Happy to help. Besides, Maura's house was looking a bit plain compared to all the other ones," he glanced up and down the block.

Jane grimaced. "You don't even want to know," she muttered.

"Hey! You two!" Frankie yelled up at them. They both looked down. "Stop gabbing. It's cold down here. And ma's got hot chocolate."

With an excited whoop that would have been more at home on elementary school playground, Tommy slid quickly down his ladder to land in a heap in the snow at the bottom. Jane scrambled quickly down her own to find a three steaming mugs on a tray held in her mother's arms. "Oh, thanks, Ma!" she mumbled, taking a giant gulp of the liquid. She nearly choked when it burned her tongue.

"Animals," her mother announced as her sons did the same thing.

They grinned at her with matching chocolate mustaches. Jane took another, smaller sip. "How's Maura?" she asked.

"Fine. Her temperature's holding steady. She's been resting for awhile with Jo."

"Good," Jane nodded.

"How's it going?" Frankie questioned carefully. Questions such as that are dangerous with Jane. "Third round started a week ago, right?"

She shrugged. She'd never managed to be very eloquent, especially with her family where gestures would get her just as far. "Alright, I suppose."

"Yeah?" Tommy this time.

"It's hitting her hard," she admitted. "They said her immune system could really suffer with this one. Just 'cause her body's not strong enough. You know?" It's a rhetorical question, but they all nod in understanding. She looks away, out into the street, over the snow banks around the mail box, across to Maura's neighbor's house, flashing gaily with delicate white lights. She feels Frankie's hand, hesitant, yet reassuring, come to rest on her shoulder. She let's it lay there for a moment, taking comfort in the gesture. The thank you goes unstated, but it's clearly perceived.

They don't often have moments like this. Quiet ones. Someone's always yelling or stomping around. There's always a running joke going or catastrophe brewing. It's strange to simply stand together, as a group, watching their breath appear as white fog. It's one of her favorite parts of winter. There's something affirming about seeing your own dispelled air take shape before you. It gives physical dimension to a force that is normally invisible, ever present yet forgotten about. The bite of the cold air in your lungs, the pain in your teeth when you take a deep breath, the ache in your throat. Combined with the hazy image of the gases your body expels, you're reminded with each inhale and each exhale that you are alive. It's thrilling in its own way. Average, everyday, but astounding.

Finally, she shifts. The pressure behind her eyes is growing stronger, and she needs to be distracted. Otherwise she'll end up crying in front of her brothers and her mother. That is not something she does. Not ever. She's the oldest, the strong one, and she still hasn't really learned how to accept their support without feeling slightly embarrassed. "We should," she clears her throat, "we should finish up."

"And I'll get dinner going!" her mother announced loudly, grabbing their, now empty mugs, and turning to go back inside.

"Thanks for the cocoa," Tommy said sweetly.

"You're welcome. Be careful up on those things," she eyes the ladders suspiciously. "I never was comfortable with the three of you climbing up so high."

"Ma," Frankie groaned, the bubble of tension that had come to lay over them all receding off into the frozen air like snow in the spring.

"I'm serious. I better not hear any screaming from out here. I know how you all like to mess around. Because I certainly won't be the one driving you to the hospital," she glared at each of them in turn. Tommy shifted under her stare like the mischievous boy he had once been, Frankie blushed even though she was hardly talking to him, Jane crossed her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes. "My children," her mother muttered as she turned smartly on her heel and disappeared back inside the house. "Ragamuffins."

"How does she _do _that," her youngest brother complained after the door had shut firmly behind her retreating figure. "I feel like I'm eleven and getting in trouble for using her nice sheets for the ghosts on Halloween."

"It's a gift," Frankie said hoarsely. "A very, very terrifying gift."

"And annoying," Jane growled.

"How do you live with her anyway, Janie?"

"She doesn't live with me. She lives in the guest house."

Tommy stared at her blankly. "Same thing."

"No. It isn't." She pushed him off the porch, laughing when he nearly fell into the snow. "Besides she didn't have anywhere else to go. You know that."

He sobers. "I know, but still..."

"Hey," she held up her hands. "You can blame Maura for that one. They're the ones who are best pals or whatever."

Frankie clapped her on the back, leading the way towards the lights still lying in plastic tubs on the ground. "It's a rough life," he sympathized sarcastically. "A rough life indeed."

"Shut up," she told him, handing over a carefully rolled string and moving the ladder to the next section of the roof. "Your turn," and she smirked as she watched him shimmy up the rickety metal contraption. "Let's go, Thomas. The sooner you get your ass up there, the sooner we can all be done. I, for one, need a beer."

* * *

"What do you think, Jo?" her voice comes out soft in the empty room. The little dog shifts against her. She looks around, taking in a blurry image of a space once so clearly defined. She can recall each detail with near-perfect accuracy: the name of each title, organized by subject on the shelves along the back wall, the pattern of the throw pillows on the chair, the delicate smattering of color in the blown glass vase over on the side table. She took such pride in decorating this room. Getting it just right. Perfect for entertaining company. For reading on a cold winter's night. With each item chosen for it's aesthetically pleasing nature as well as its well-defined purpose. Nothing wasteful. Nothing distasteful.

And it's become the perfect place for family gatherings. For watching baseball games and football games and all other -ball games. The couch is a bit more worn than it was three years ago. The carpet has a stain in its left corner where Jane spilled her pasta one Sunday. There is a scratch on the table from one of Frankie and Tommy's scuffles. The pillows are wrinkled because Jane had flopped down on them the week before and then fallen asleep. It feels lived in. Loved.

And although she cannot discern the individual details of the room any longer. She can still feel the warmth of it seeping into her skin. Some strange atmosphere that works on her emotions and mental state, soothing and calm, even as it disappears slowly from her sight. She shakes her head as if to dislodge an annoying filter that has landed across her eyes, restricting her vision. But the blurriness does not clear up. The muted colors and running patterns remain.

She blinks once. Slowly. And again. She wonders if she will ever get used to the way the tumor pressing slowly in on her brain changes her perception of the world. If she will ever feel like herself again. Because, although she has read the theorists, those who insist you reflect the world you inhabit, that humans define themselves by the environments they exist in, she did not fully understand the importance she herself placed on her own sensory interpretations of the world. And now, now that she is losing sight, one of the most feeble and yet most important senses, she feels cut apart from solid ground, as though she's been set adrift, floating free from the tether sight provided her with.

She sighs, scratching behind her couch companion's tiny ear. She is freezing and her head feels as though it might explode at any moment. That should be an exaggeration perhaps, but it doesn't feel like one. She should call for Angela, but the thought that she has to _call _for someone. That she is incapable of caring for herself completely still takes her surprise, still causes the flush of embarrassment to rise in her cheeks. Although, the burning sensation experienced there might be due more to her fever than anything else at this point.

"I don't know," she answers her own question from minutes earlier. Or was it hours. Time feels fluid in the space she is currently occupying. The only trustworthy representation of the passing of fourth dimension is her pulse. But that is pounding too loudly throughout her body. She can feel it in her fingertips. In her toes. It's not right, she thinks. It's too fast, or is it too slowly. Either way, time is passing her by and she has lost all control.

Her tongue feels thick in her mouth, heavy. She reaches blindly for the glass of water she knows is on a coaster on the table. Except she hits it with too much force, sending it careening off the surface to bounce on the carpeting, spilling its contents with all the joy of an item giving free reign to release its entropy on the universe. "Shit," she murmurs. The word feels foreign. She takes a deep breath, before sitting up, displacing the dog beside her, who jumps to the floor in consternation. "Sorry, Jo."

But she's focused on the feeling of the floor beneath her feet. It's as if the individual atoms have suddenly grown by the power of a thousand and she can feel them vibrating against her skin. Rolling in a million tiny earthquakes, causing her feet to slide this way and that. She stretches out to place a shaking hand on the table top as leverage, then she pushes up and forward. And for a moment, she is erect, standing balanced on the shifting and swaying of a sea of molecules, arms out to steady herself. Until even the blobs that make up her living room are drowned in an ocean of red. And everything goes black.

* * *

"Maura, honey? The other three should be in soon, but I made some soup and thought maybe you'd like so-" There is the clatter of a dish hitting the floor, following closely by its utensil. The liquid spreads quickly out across the wooden floor, soaking into the edge of the white carpeting.

* * *

"Last one!" she calls up to her brothers. "Thank God." Her nose is red with cold and her fingers feel like frozen sausages.

"Janie, can you toss me up that-"

But whatever Frankie is going to ask for is lost the sound of her mother's voice, terrified and high pitched reaches her ears from inside. "Jane! Jane! Oh, God, Jane!"

She's moving before she even registers that it's her name being uttered, streaking towards the house. Her heart beat is suddenly loud in her ears, drowning out all extraneous noise. She bounds up onto the porch, blowing through the door to come to a screeching halt in the living room entranceway.

"I-I don't know what happened." Her mother looks up at her from her position on the ground. "I was in the kitchen getting the food ready and I brought some soup, but when I came in..."

Jane isn't making sense of the words. She cannot process anything except for the sight directly before her. Maura is lying on the ground. Why? Why is she on the ground? Not on the couch. She should be on the couch. The detective thinks that she should be assessing the scene, studying every detail, making a mental note of the layout of the victim and the roo- Victim? This isn't a victim. It's Maura. Maura. On the ground.

"Maura?" her voice comes out sounding strangled. She has crossed the room, and drops to her knees beside her mother who is staring between her and the person on the floor in fear. The doctor is pale, and still, so still. Jane can see that Maura's chest is moving. In and out. In quick shallow breaths, but she doesn't trust her vision. Seeing is not believing.

"Janie?" her mother asks.

She reaches a shaking hand forward and presses two fingers to the doctor's pulse point on her neck. One, she says silently. Two. Three. Four. Thready and inconsistent, but the pulse is there.

It's only then that she notices the red liquid oozing gently from an open wound on the side of Maura's forehead to drip onto the carpet. Blood. She does not need the medical examiner's expertise on this one. Not when she can watch it pool on the doctor's clammy skin from within her. There's already a sizable amount. It will stain, she knows. And she feels the ridiculous need to apologize to the prostrate woman before her, because she knows how much Maura abhors stains on her furniture.

"Janie!" Frankie, rushing through the doorway with Tommy hot on his heels. "Janie, what - oh shit," he curses.

Time seems to slow as she reaches out to brush a slim finger along Maura's face. She's warm. Flushed. Burning up. Her ME doesn't react to her touch, long lashes still laying still against her cheeks. And then time is jumping forward, catching up with itself. And she's moving, and speaking, sending orders flying around the room. "Frankie, go start the car. Tommy, call Dr. Ryan Wilde. His card is on the fridge. Tell him we're coming in. Ma, call Constance and Richard. Have them meet us at Mass Gen." She scoops the smaller woman easily into her arms, cradling her close to her chest. Frankie has already dashed out, but Tommy and her mother are standing, staring at her. There are tears running down her mother's cheeks. She's crying. But, Jane cannot feel anything. Nothing except the heat radiating from the woman pressed tightly against her. "Tommy!" she barks. And it catapults her youngest brother into action. He jumps forward and grabs his mother's arm.

"C'mon, Ma. C'mon," he encourages, tugging her into the kitchen behind him.

"Follow behind us," Jane tells him, and he nods to her over his shoulder before he disappears from view. He does not look at the silent figure in her arms. She spun towards the front door, making her way quickly down the hall and outside.

Frankie has her car running, emitting putrid exhaust into the air. He is sitting behind the wheel, but he hops out and opens the back door for her. She slides into the seat, careful not to jostle her precious cargo. Then he slams the door behind her and gets back into the driver's seat, shifting the car into reverse and looking both ways quickly before backing out into the street.

"Mom and Tommy?"

"They'll follow us," she says shortly, staring down at the thin face below her. "Mass Gen," she directs him, and he gives a curt nod to show he's understood, before accelerating.

"Maur," she murmurs, attempting to put pressure on the bleeding wound. It isn't deep. "Maura. I've got you, sweet girl. We're gonna take care of you." She keeps up the reassuring dialogue the entire ride to the hospital. She doesn't see her brother's fearful looks in the rearview mirror. She doesn't notice when he runs all of the yellow lights. She doesn't feel the bumps in the road, except to hold the woman closer to her, protecting her.

"Wake up, love. C'mon, Maur. We're almost there. I love you. I love you. I love you."


	41. Chapter 41

**AN: Alright, y'all, so you know how much I adore reading all of your reviews and what not. But, just remember that this is _fiction _(fan, though it may be). Let's try and reign in the hate a little bit, maybe? Constructive criticism perhaps? I'm trying to do justice to the characters and the storyline as much as I can, and the road is tough going, but I think you'll see that we'll get there in the end. Don't give up. Thank you sososo much for reading. Love.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli & Isles. All characters belong to Tess Garritsen and Janet Tamaro. **

* * *

_ "You should get out for awhile. Get some fresh air. Take a walk."_

_"I'm not leaving her, Ma."_

_"Janie. It isn't good for you to be cooped up in this place. Just go. Just for a bit. You're no good to her if you can't even take care of yourself."_

_She sighed, running a hand down her face. "Maybe later. Alright? Later. I promise. After she wakes up."_

There is a rhythm to a hospital, she's come to realize. A bustle and a hum that never quits, that circles with the hands of the clock around and around, from sun-up to sun-down. The nights are quieter, but possess a pattern all their own. Hushed voices. The squeak of a lone pair of shoes making their way down the linoleum hallway. The flickering of the one dying, fluorescent light bulb in the corner, struggling vainly not to go dark. And she has become a part of that world now, sliding almost seamlessly into the fabric, stitched into place as though the spot had been saved for her specially.

_"An infection?"_

_"A strain of influenza."_

_"The flu? She has the flu?"_

_"Chemotherapy doesn't just attack the bad stuff, Jane. It kills everything."_

_"Poison. You've been dumping poison into her body for months."_

_"Her immune system has been compromised, weakened to the point where it can no longer fight off the most basic attacks."_

_"So…"_

_"We'll give her antibiotics for now. As well as fluids of course."_

_"And the chemo?"_

_"It's a waiting game at this point."_

The nurses all know her on sight now. It only took them a week. Only a week. When did seven days come to seem short? When did she start breaking each day down into twelve hour shifts? Sometime between the third night and the fourth perhaps.

But they know her now, and they smile at her. Quickly and silently as they hurry past for five am rounds. They are professionals. All of them. Except sometimes they give her softer smiles as she meanders around the wing, up and down and up and down until she could provide BPD with a perfect description of each individual floor tile. On her third trip by the nurses' station, there will often be a cup of coffee, steam dissipating into the sterilized air, hot and black, sitting there, waiting for her. They know who she is now. They know her name. They know her route. They know the way she takes her coffee. They are becoming her family.

_"Maybe we should consider calling someone in."_

_"Richard."_

_"I know Bill Jarvis over at Mayo, I'm sure he'd be willing to fly in…"_

_"Ryan's good," she cuts in. Then she looks down at her shoes, embarrassed. "Sorry," it isn't her place._

_"You're fine, dear," she isn't sure when Constance stopped calling her detective, skipped completely over her actual name, and began to call her dear. It makes her feel like she's five years old again. "And you're absolutely right."_

_"Connie-"_

_"No. Richard, you know Dr. Wilde has already been consulting with Dr. Jarvis and Dr. Saroyen from the Cleveland Clinic. We just need to be patient. We need to have faith."_

_He frowned, but turned away._

_"Darling," it may have made her feel like a child, but it also made her feel like a well-loved child, a child whose mother was worried about her well-being. It made her feel warm inside. Gooey. "You should go home tonight. Get some rest."_

_"I can't. I just, I can't leave her."_

_"Just a few hours then. Eat some real food. Take a shower. Go for a run."_

_"I'm sorry, Constance. I really am. But, I can't."_

_"Alright. Alright, dear. That's okay."_

She forgets sometimes that there exist other floors in this massive place, that if she takes the stairs up two floors, she'll be on a ward decorated with bears and monkeys, where little kids with shaved heads and iv bags trailing them like lost puppies grin at her from a playroom full of puzzles and board games. She'd gotten lost there one afternoon, watching a boy and his little sister try to fit together pieces whose edges just didn't seem to match. She'd crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall and watched them bicker over which one went where. In the end, a nurse and a frazzled looking woman with tear tracks permanently scarred across her hollow cheeks had come to collect them, and the puzzle had been left behind, half-completed, already forgotten.

_"Everything alright?"_

_"Yeah," she rubs the crick out of her neck, sliding to sit up straighter in the chair and licking her lips. "Yeah. What are you doing here?"_

_"Thought I'd swing by for a few minutes. Just finished my shift."_

_"All good?"_

_"All good. They sure do miss you both over there though. Frost is getting a little fed up with Korsak, I think."_

_She aimed for a fond smile, but the corners slipped._

_"Hey, you know they'd love it if you stopped by."_

_"Yeah…"_

_"Just for a few minutes maybe."_

_"I'll have to see when I can get away."_

_Silence for several moments. Comfortable though._

_"Want me to get you something to eat from downstairs? Or I could run out and get something. You look like you could use a burger," he punches her gently on the shoulder._

_"Maybe later. But thanks, brother."_

_"Anytime."_

The large window overlooks a closed-in courtyard. There's a four-inch layer of snow that covers its puny trees and few metal benches. The surface of the snow is lumpy and disturbed by the multiple sets of footprints criss-crossing its white expanse. One of the benches has been cleared off, and there's a man who occupies it every morning from seven until eight. He's praying, she knows. She wonders who he's praying for. Someone he loves, someone he'd change places with in a heartbeat. She peers out from behind the curtain, three floors above him, and although she has spent most of her adult life ignoring her mother's God, she prays with this man each morning. She prays for him, and she prays that his prayers are answered. Because everyone with that much pain weighing on their shoulders deserves a little extra help. It's become her morning ritual. She prays for the man on the bench, until one morning he doesn't show up, and so she is forced to pray alone.

_"These weird messages!"_

_"What's that, Janie?"_

_"Nothing. I've just been getting these creepy texts from some guy whose wife must have a similar number or something. It's getting annoying."_

_"Tell him he's got it wrong."_

_"I have been! But he must not get the picture. Like, 'Hon, don't forget to pick up the drycleaning!' Idiot," she mumbled under her breath, hitting the silent button and sticking the device away._

She never knew before that there was a medical code, an entire language only used by hospital staff. She thinks she might be becoming fluent, and it is a terrifying thought. There's the 3 am code for, "I'm taking a cigarette break." The, "This patient is crazy." Or, "Doctor Smith. That man has no soul." The, "Can you take my shift next weekend? Jimmy's got to work and the kids have got a birthday party." The, "My feet are killing me." She's managed to decode nearly every different one.

Now, she's begun to work on their silent language, because that is the one where they actually communicate the big stuff, the important things to one another. Any old patient can learn to interpret the words they use, but it takes a finely trained professional such as herself to learn the seventeen different ways a nurse can raise her eyebrow or tap her foot. She's taking a sick sense of pleasure in learning. They know what she's doing of course; she has never been subtle, but they let her continue, with pats on the arm for encouragement and a toss of the head as though to decry her ambition as foolish. Many have tried, few have succeeded. But, she won't go down without a fight.

_"Hey there pretty girl."_

_"Mm. Jay. Water?"_

_"Right here. Your fever's gone down. That's good. Ryan said he'll stop by later this afternoon to check in again. And Ann was here."_

_"Oh she was?"_

_"Mmhmm. She said I was supposed to tell you to stop playing the baby and get your butt out of bed."_

_"She said ass, didn't she?"_

_"Perhaps," she purses her lips in fake consternation, but she can't help but grin when the other woman laughs._

_"She's wonderful."_

_"She is. As are you. 'Nother sip?"_

_"Please."_

It is cloudy outside nearly everyday. Even if she were outside, she isn't sure she'd remember the feel of the sun, hot and brilliant on her skin. Winter has settled itself firmly upon the city, and will not relinquish its hold until March. Life goes on however, and what constitutes her new normal continues as it has for decades, as it did before she came along, and as it will even after she leaves via two sliding glass doors. There is only one season within these pale green walls. One single, 365.25-day season that is on a constant, repetitive cycle. Autumn has lost all meaning. Spring is only a dream. And summer sounds like foreign things, fairytales and fantasy lands. Even winter feels far away.

_"Merry Christmas, Ma. Umph, Tommy."_

_"Merry Christmas, Janie!"_

_"Thanks, brother." She accepts Frankie's slap on the back, "Merry Christmas."_

_"We thought we might bring a little holiday cheer," her youngest brother holds up the fake tree decorated with a tiny string of white lights, a golden star bending down its uppermost branches._

_"Oh, Tommy," her voice is breathy in delight._

_"Yeah, you like it?" he approaches the bed so she can see from up close._

_"But it's the 30th…"_

_"Who cares," Angela declares. "Christmas is a forever holiday." Jane has never loved her mother more than she does in that moment._

_"And we've got presents," Frankie entices, indicating the two overflowing bags in his hands._

_"Let's get this party started," the matriarch announces. "Richard and Constance should be up in just a minute. They were right behind us."_

_Her face glows while she watches her family bustling around her, setting up for a missed holiday, the room loud and pleasantly warm, and for a moment she remembers what winter can feel like: joyous and free even as the world sleeps._

She lives off of two day old pudding and bruised apples. And she wonders how they do it, those people that she passes in the halls, shuffling along in slippers and robes, their faces empty, turned inward to some life she is not privy to. She wonders how anyone is supposed to survive in this giant brick maze if all they live on is a steady diet of chemicals, hand sanitizer, and gravy and mashed potatoes that look like they came straight out of her grandmother's refrigerator a month after Easter.

_"Jay."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Why haven't you left yet?"_

_"Left?"_

_"That chair cannot be comfortable. Go home. Check on Bass and Jo Friday."_

_"The pets are fine. My mother has that well under control."_

_"Sleep in our bed. Take a long, relaxing bath. You look like a ragamuffin, Jane. You haven't properly washed your hair in days."_

_"Well, thank you, dear. You always know just what to say."_

_She leans into the hand on her cheek. "You know what I mean," she reprimands._

_"I do. But I also know that it's not our bed without you in it, Maur."_

You never thought anyone could make yellow paper gowns and blue masks look flattering, but you've got to admit that you can definitely pull it off. You've gotten used to the funny attire that makes your family members look like aliens. Even Constance Isles looks a bit less dignified in the getup. The nurses smirk at you when you appear in the hallway, more like some dyed smurf than a human being. You aren't sad to see the gowns go after the first week. Not sad at all, although they did make her smile, so perhaps it's with a bittersweet heart that you enter her room the first day you can wearing normal clothes again. The masks remain.

_"It didn't work? Not even at all?"_

_"The tumor is the same size. In fact, i-it's grown."_

_"Grown," she gulps._

_"By how much?" Ever the pragmatist._

_"3 millimeters." The apologetic look on his face is enough to say that this could be 3000 millimeters for all the difference it would make._

_"I see."_

_"What? What do you see?"_

_They're looking at each other and she wishes to God she'd managed to decode the nurse speak by now. Except this is a different dialect entirely._

_"What. Do. You. See."_

_"We'll be stopping chemotherapy, Jane. Indefinitely. Maura's body is no longer strong enough. She's shutting down. And it isn't working."_

_"So? So what? What's next?"_

_Silence._

_"You can't just give up."_

_"It wouldn't be giving up, Jay."_

_"There's always surgery," he admits as though it pains him._

_"Okay. Yes!"_

_"But the odds for that have never been good. And now they're even worse. Even if you made it off the table, Maura, there's a good chance we wouldn't be able to get it all, at least not without causing major brain damage, perhaps even paralysis."_

_The patient nods, but the lover squirms in her seat and bites her lip. The hand in hers is tiny and frail, the bones more delicate than a bird's._

_"Think about it," he encourages. "Just, think about it."_

She spends most of her time watching her lover sleep, tracing the lines of her cheek bones against the pillow, the dip in her wrist, the hollow space along her neck. Memorizing the path along her collarbone, the cliff of her jawline, the mountains of her spine. She didn't realize that behind the bustle of a hospital, the people coming and going, ants on a string, there existed these pockets of silence. That for twenty minutes after two in the morning, you can practically see the dreams of the woman you love. That there are pictures in the air and the hard edges of the hallway corners soften until they are almost curved and her face is so close to shadow as to have lost its contours, its concavities, its imperfections and its beauties. That in those twenty minutes, reflexive actions such as breathing take concentration and finesse. That beneath the cold exterior of medicine, there exists something beautiful in the simplicity of cells and molecules and atoms, a simplicity she can only grasp halfway between awake and asleep, halfway between life and death. She did not realize there was more to living than a heartbeat, and more to dying than pain.

_"Maura, darling, have you thought about this? Truly thought about this?"_

_"Mother, you know I have."_

_She's listening just outside the door, even if she shouldn't be._

_"Maura," her father's voice sounds gruff. "There is a chance though-"_

_"Slim. Statistically insignificant."_

_"Darling," a whisper._

_"It's not giving up," and you can hear the tears in her smile._

_"Of course it isn't."_

_"We love you. We love you so much."_

_"I love you, too."_

There must be more than this. There must be. Because her skin feels tight across her face, but at the same time stretched, sloughing off her bones of its own accord. There must be more than this, because the lifted shoulder of the night nurse says, 'get ready,' and Ann's eyebrow reads, 'soon.' But soon is a relative term, and in this case soon is far, far too quickly. And there must be more than this. More than four walls and a ceiling that appears the be falling down upon her, inch by inch each day, sucking out the light as it falls. There must be more than this. It has become her prayer.

"Jane," she presses herself closer to the body next to her. As though she is not already attached to her, finger tip to finger tip, knee cap to upper thigh, rib bone to spine. A perfect specimen of Aristophames' creation story. Four arms, four legs, two hearts beating as one. "Are you awake."

_"Yes."_

_"Jay."_

_"I know." She has been waiting for this._

_"But do you understand? I need you to understand."_

_She shakes her head no, except she thinks it might be a lie._

_"I'm tired, Jay," a whimper released between the technical blips of her heart rate monitor._

_"I know."_

_"This is the most likely way to have as much as time as possible. As much time with you."_

_"I know."_

_"Surgery is-it-it's not the best option."_

_"I know."_

_"Will you ever be able to forgive me?"_

_"I already have."_

There was champagne on the night the ball fell in New York City. And the nurses wore their hair down, so-to-speak, and the patients smiled and their families grimaced in their best imitation of grins. And everyone counted down. Ten! Nine! Except for her, because counting down meant admitting to the end. Eight! Seven! And endings were her least favorite part of the story these days. Six! Five! Why did such horrid things as new years have to exist? Four! Three! Two! She pressed her lips to Maura's because that was what one did as those around them shouted, "One! Happy New Year!" She kissed the woman she loved because it was 2013 and she was not sure she would survive it.

_"Goddamn it! This crazy guy! 'Hon, I think we're out of milk.' I am not your wife you fricken asshole."_

_"Jane," a placating hand on her arm does nothing soothe her._

_She throws the phone against the wall, and something inside her flares in delight when it shatters, tiny bits going every which way. And then that glow dissipates and she is left with her head in her hands._

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_"Janie. Oh sweetheart. Come here." And never have her mother's arms felt more like dragon's wings, strong and impenetrable, shutting out the world with all its noise and chaos._

The universe is trending towards chaos. Entropy. Maura used to tell her about it. Using her geek speak. But she has discovered that the roof is a place where the only chaos is the swirling patterns the snowflakes make as they fall to settle in her brown curls, greasy and snarled. And the chaos of these tiny pinpricks of precipitation is calming compared to the mess that is her world indoors. She holds her hands out, palms up, head tilted back, eyes open, blinking furiously each time one of the white pieces of dust lands in her face. For a moment she thinks it's ash, blown to her from a far distant building, smoldering to the ground, and then the cold returns, fierce. Demanding.

_"Jane?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Here's your new phone. Frankie dropped it off at the house this morning."_

_"Thanks, ma."_

_"Good morning, Constance."_

_"Morning, Angela."_

_"Is she sleeping still?"_

_"Like a lamb."_

_"Alright, well, I'm off to the café; we've got a delivery coming and Mr. Stanley had to be out today." She kisses her adopted daughter's sleeping cheek and manages to peck her eldest child's on her way out the door. "I'll call later this afternoon."_

She doesn't wander the halls anymore. She sleeps fitfully in the tiny cot they've had installed in Maura's private room. Each shift on the sheets is scratchy and overloud in the concrete room. She murmurs the names of the nurses to herself as their footsteps grow in volume and then fade outside the half closed door. Nights are long, and days are short and she struggles to a recall a time when she was whole, solid. She is losing something she loves. Someone she loves. And so she is losing herself.

_"Sweetheart. I love you, but you have got to get out of this room."_

_"Maura," growled. She's pacing, back and forth and back and forth._

_"I can't leave, but you can. Go pet the dog. Feed the tortoise. See Barry and Vince at the precinct. I know you haven't been returning their calls."_

_"Are you attempting to guilt trip me, Dr. Isles?"_

_"Is it working, Detective Rizzoli?"_

_"Perhaps."_

_"I love you. And I will be here when you get back."_

_Promise? But it's silent._

_"I promise," she affirms with words._

_"Only for a few hours."_

_"Fine. Just eat some real food. By real food I mean something green-"_

_"Pickles are green."_

_"They don't count, detective, and you know it. Now go," and she pushes the other woman away._

_"I love you," Jane says. She does not mumble it any longer. There is no time for whispers. "Two hours. Tops." She kisses a high forehead, and is gone._

There are cars. And people. People frowning at the phones in their hands and yelling at the voices in their ears. People giving up their seats on buses and on trains. People walking dogs, people pushing baby strollers in front of them. People who are living. Actual lives. She'd nearly forgotten what it looks like. She stops at red lights, at stop signs. She drives on the proper side of the road and uses her turning signal. She follows rules designed by society to keep its citizens safe, to keep them alive. Living. She'd almost forgotten.

_"Ma, hey," she is nervous to be in this bustling place. She feels like an outsider._

_"Janie! Hi! You should have called; I could have made you some lunch."_

_"No, lunch, ma. I just stopped by to check in with the guys upstairs. I went home and saw Jo and Bass, but I had a few more minutes."_

_"Well, they'll be so happy to see you!"_

_"Where do you want these Mrs. Rizzoli?"_

_"Oh, Dominick, delivering the bread again! Janie, you remember Dominick, don't you?"_

_"Yes." She pauses. Her mother nudges her. "How are you?" It's crazy how quickly such subtleties of human interaction escape you when you're living in the twilight zone._

_"Good. It's nice to see you, Jane."_

_"Good to see you," she nods._

_"You, um, you used to love fresh ciabatta rolls," he points to her._

_"Oh, yeah. Yeah! Bianchi's Bakery," she's finally placed him. Ciabatta is made with white flour. If Maura were here, she'd make some crack about endosperm, Jane is nearly sure of it. "Ma, I-I think I'm going to head upstairs."_

_"Of course, honey."_

_"Nice to see you again," she gives the man a quick smile._

_"You, too!" he calls after her._

_"Just bring that back here," her mother orders. "Just back here."_

_She escapes for the stairs before she can remember this is only shore leave, quick, fleeting._

Camaraderie. That is what this place gives her. Strength and confidence and camaraderie. A partner who high fives her when she appears, flushed from the several flights of stairs. An old man who takes her teasing with a twinkle in his eye. People who ask her advice on a case of a murdered husband and wife psychiatrist duo. People who respect her and trust her and look up to her. It's her second home, and she can almost breathe again being here.

_"Another weird text?"_

_"Yeah. Frankie just picked up this phone for me yesterday. It's got the same number, and that guy keeps texting me."_

_"Hon, don't forget your Brazilian?" he raises his eyebrows._

_"Give that back!"_

_"Sounds like somebody's got a special appointment today."_

_"Shut up." He tosses the phone back to her and she deletes the message quickly. "Is that the time? Shit! I've got to get back."_

_"Jane, I'm sure it's fine."_

_"No, I-I know. It's just that I said two hours, and I don't want to be late."_

_"Okay-y-y, but we'll see you again soon?"_

_"I - sure, Frost."_

_"We were thinking about stopping by tomorrow," Korsak indicated the younger man and himself._

_She paused in her headlong rush towards the door. "Yes. That would be great. She'd, um, love to see you both."_

_"Alright. Four-ish?"_

_"Whenever."_

_"We'll call first."_

_"Okay. I'll tell her you're coming. Thanks, guys," and it's thanks for filling her in on a details of a case that isn't hers and thanks for taking her mind off of real life for an hour, and thanks for too many things to put into words._

_"No problem. See you tomorrow."_

_She's off, moving towards the elevator, back towards her future, her past, her present._

Whoever decided there was something beautiful about winter in the city was sorely mistaken. The snow can never seem to decide whether to stay or to go. The exhaust from a million cars turns it's pure layers into mud, black and salty and sooty. It doesn't even look like snow anymore, but some devilish thing, dirty and old. She is very nearly excited to return to the fake lighting and sterile walls of the hospital. There at least everything is clean and well-ordered chaos.

_"Whaa..Noo. Hey, Dominick." She scrubs her hand across her face. "Uh, do you know how long you're gonna be? This is my car right here."_

_"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry."_

_"That's okay!" It isn't._

_"I-argh." He's dropped a bag full of bread._

_"That's okay." She says again._

_"Ca-can you just put that back on the rack?" he hands her a brown paper bag. "I'll move the truck"_

_"Ok, thank you."_

_"Hey! You know what, why don't you grab a bag of ciabatta. It's still warm. It's on the last rack."_

_"Ok. Thank you."_

_"Sure." He waves it off as he heads around towards the driver's door._

_"This one?"_

_"Yeah!" The rumble of the truck's engine turning over fills the air._

_"Thank you so much. I'll see you later." She waves over her shoulder as she turns towards the back doors, still swinging open. "Thank yo- No!" It comes out as a yelp, strangled and cut off because he's pushed something into her neck, sharp, pointy, and the world goes black._


	42. Chapter 42

**AN: Alright, y'all, so here's the deal. I haven't updated this story in nearly two months, and really, the only excuse I have is…well…life. Which, unfortunately at times, is not fiction. BUT I wrote this chapter. And I was going to wait to post it (seeing as how it hasn't been edited or read through or critiqued) until I'd finished the story. There's only about three chapters (TOPS) left. Except I couldn't wait. I'm too impatient. And y'all have been so nice and kind and worried. And the fact that some people out there actually messaged me asking for updates kind of has me all in a delighted tizzy. Suffice it to say, you are all wonderful, and I'm going to shut up now and let these characters speak for themselves.**

**PS – There will be another update tomorrow. I promise. Love.**

* * *

She wakes up suddenly, as though she's been plunged into an icy cold stream. She feels more alert than she has in days. For the past several days she's been able to feel the pounding in her head even through the pain medication they've been giving her, but now, it's nothing more than a small annoyance. Her limbs feel weak still, removed from her body, as if she's simply a torso, lacking appendages. And she isn't sure if, when she raises her arm above her prostrate form to study the IV taped there, pumping drugs into her system, keeping her comfortable, but not really working to keep her alive, she isn't sure if she's the one controlling the movement or not. Her head is light, airy, and if it were not for the sheet and blanket lying heavily upon her, she is certain that she would float up into the air. A helium balloon carried ever higher, until the ceiling held her back from breaking free into the sky.

Something's wrong. She can feel it, in the place where Jane says her gut is. And even though her rational mind reminds her that internal organs don't speak, she is certain that what she's feeling is true. Something's wrong.

And it isn't her. It isn't the fact that she is more lucid than she's been since being admitted to the hospital. It isn't the fact that she can push herself up into a semi-sitting position without gasping for pain, without feeling as if her head is being cleaved in two with a butcher knife. No. It's the fact that she's alone. She is the only person in the room, the four square walls, covered in a horrendous shade of green stare grimly back at her. Even the fake flowers Mrs. Rizzoli has been bringing daily do little to cheer up the space. She can just make out her reflection in the window: tiny and frail, her pale face staring confusedly back at her from the darkness outside the glass. She takes a breath, shallow, nearly gasping; it breaks the stillness in the room. Something's wrong.

The solitude grips her tightly, wrapping itself around her small frame, squeezing what little oxygen she's managed to procure out of her lungs. She hasn't been alone before; not in here anyway. It's true that she spent much of her life alone, growing up alone, learning alone, working alone, sleeping alone. She never minded the quiet before, the feeling of being the only living and breathing human in a space. She'd even managed to convince herself that she _liked _being alone, liked the freedom it afforded her to think her own thoughts, to be her own mind. She'd titled herself "independent" rather than "lonely," "well-read" instead of "empty." But she has not been alone in a long while, not since a wild-haired, brash, outspoken detective came into her life, busted into her morgue, demanded her friendship without taking no for an answer, stole her way into Maura's heart before the medical examiner had time to realize what was happening. She has not been alone since Jane became her friend, her confidante, her caretaker, her love. And she finds that she is out of practice, no longer comfortable in the emptiness.

Something's wrong. Because Jane went home to feed the dog and pat the tortoise and perhaps to head in to the Precinct to see the guys, but she hadn't left Maura alone. She wouldn't; she was stubborn that way. Constance had been here, and Richard, and she'd felt certain that as she'd slipped into an exhausted sleep, exhausted from lying in bed all day, exhausted from the pure effort living took, her mother had held her delicate hand loosely in her own soft one and whispered that they'd be there when she woke up. She'd smiled slightly because she'd never heard her mother make such a promise before and it made her feel safe inside, loved, like the child she'd never gotten to be. But her parents were no longer by her bedside, a book in her mother's hand, the laptop resting on her father's lap while he stared blankly out the window and didn't actually get any work done. And Jane wasn't here either.

Jane, who Maura loved more than anything in the world. Jane who'd promised she'd be back in two hours and who never broke a promise, especially not one she'd made with Maura's knuckles to her lips, her dark brown eyes holding her lover's hazel ones seriously with her own. Jane who told Maura she loved her everyday, every hour, every minute, just by refusing to give up, refusing to let her go quietly, the way she might have four years ago when she was still used to being alone. Jane, the one thing that was making it so difficult for Maura to simply slip away one night without a sound. Jane was nowhere to be seen, and the solitude she never thought she'd see again was stifling her. She'd only woken five minutes ago and already she felt as though she were drowning, her lungs filling with invisible liquid, drowning from the inside out.

She'd never needed anyone the way she'd needed Jane. Never, in all her life. And her detective had said two hours, but it was very clearly dark outside already. Winter in Boston meant the sun set unnaturally early; it was perhaps only six o'clock. But still, that meant Jane had left hours ago. She'd promised. She'd promised to come back! Maura had forced her to go, forced her to leave the prison that the hospital was morphing into, forced her to go outside, breathe real air, remember that there was more to life than dying. Because there was, and Maura, as much as she'd promised Jane that this was the best course of action, that she was ready, needed to make sure, above all things, that _Jane_ knew there was more than this. More than wasting away, watching helplessly as your own body betrayed you. More than squeaky-clean linoleum and the private language only nurses would ever be fluent in.

She'd spoken to the hospital psychologist, of course, multiple times. But she knew Jane. Knew the way the woman's mind worked, knew her quirks and her charms, knew that the huskiness in her voice in the morning meant it had been a restless night, knew that when Jane tapped her thumb gently against Maura's fingertips while they laid in bed together, it meant the brunette was lost in thought. Knew that if she stilled the incessant, unconscious movement by covering it with her other hand, Jane would come back to her immediately, shifting so their bodies were closer than close. And so she knew that Jane, as much as she spoke to Maura, whispered loving words under cover of darkness and read her the New York Times each morning, was not speaking to anyone else. She knew that the other woman would have locked herself away from the others, from Angela and Tommy, Frankie and Frost. That Jane, as lively as she was, as buoyant and full of energy, would be the one closest to slipping away after it was all over. And so she'd sent Jane away to remind her that there were more things to live for than the beeping of a heart monitor.

But Jane has not come back and Maura is more awake than she's been in weeks and she wants the other woman's touch, the closeness, the feeling that she _isn't _alone, that she has someone who loves her enough to pretend that wishes came true and dreams might someday become reality. She'd lived with the constant pain of a head under attack for months, but it was quite suddenly her heart that felt constricted, felt compressed and in pain, and as it gaze a sharp stab of pain in protest, she whimpered.

* * *

It was 5:30 and Angela was dead on her feet. She wasn't even supposed to work today except Stanley called in with some excuse and she couldn't very well leave all the entire Boston police force to starve, now could she? So of course she'd gone in, although she'd been looking forward to perhaps spending the day at the hospital with Jane and Maura. She would never say so in front of her oldest child, but the medical examiner was looking smaller and smaller each day against her white pillows. Angela Rizzoli was an optimist in nearly every sense of the word, but even she was having a difficult time keeping her spirits up in such hard times.

Seeing Janie at the precinct had been a nice surprise. It was good to see her daughter getting out of that hospital. She'd lost quite a bit of weight and was looking awfully pale. But seeing Barry and Vince was sure to have cheered her up a bit, or at least returned some of the pink to her cheeks and life to her dark brown eyes. Angela was nothing if not a mother hen and it hurt her to see her child in such distress. There was very little she could do to make it better either, and she knew it. But she hoped that a short break might have given Jane a second wind.

She had her phone out of her purse and was scrolling through her contacts looking for Jane's number as she headed out of the building. She barely bothered to look around as she headed down the street the few yards towards where she'd parked her car earlier that day. She'd call and check in before heading home to get freshened up. Visiting hours ended at eight, but Jane, who, for someone who professed not to be a people person, got on awfully well with the nursing staff, and usually managed to get them to let the family stay awhile later as long as Maura was up to it. She was just pressing the send button and bringing the phone up to her ear, opening the driver's side door as she did so, when she saw it, parked across the street – Jane's car.

She knew – immediately - as only a mother whose two oldest children both worked in law enforcement, who both faced death on a weekly basis, could know. Something was wrong.

She walked shakily across the street, ignoring the car that honked its horn angrily at her as it passed. As she approached the vehicle, she once more scrolled through her contacts.

"Constance," she managed when the other woman answered on the first ring. "Is Jane there?" She stared unseeingly in through the side window at Jane's blazer, resting on the passenger seat, some pictures lying on top of it.

"No she isn't," Constance was saying into her ear.

Janie must have grabbed them from the house to bring them to Maura. She was always doing sweet things like that. Small things that she tried to brush off if anyone noticed.

"Angela? Angela, are you still there?"

"Wha-? Oh, yes. I'm sorry, Constance." Her daughter loved that woman. Loved her in a way Angela had never thought she'd witness. Jane was more loyal and devoted to Maura Isles than the matriarch had believed it was possible to be.

"Is everything okay?" Constance sounded worried.

"Let me call you back," she didn't even notice as she hung up on Constance who was still trying to question her. She looked around, studying the snow-covered street, illuminated only by the street lamps and the light leaking from the windows of the Boston Police Department. Jane had left hours before; Vince had texted her after her daughter headed back to the hospital. Why was her car still here? Parked and slowly being covered with a blanket of snow?

Frankie was number 3 on her speed dial. He answered quickly, "What's up, Ma? I just finished my shift. Wanna ride to the hospital together?"

"N-no."

"Ma?" Her middle child had always been the most reliable of her three offspring, the most level-headed.

"Frankie," she didn't recognize her own voice, shaky and strangled, "your sister's missing. She's gone."

* * *

There are fingers on her cheek, caressing her. And a warm body next to her. She rolls her head back and forth. It feels heavy on her neck, looser than normal. Maura, she wants to say. Maura, what're you doing? But the words won't come. Her mouth feels thick, like she's been sucking on cotton. The breath is warm on her face, except, something doesn't feel right. The fingertips are rougher than her doctor's, the breath is stale, and the weight next to her is heavy and pressing. Her brown eyes flutter open; the room is blurry at first. She's confused. Why can't she see straight?

And there's a face next to her, so close she can't focus on it. But it isn't Maura; that's the first coherent thought she's managed since coming 'round. She tries to pull away, her automatic fight or flight response kicking in, but even as she does, she finds that she can hardly move. Her arms are held out an odd angles, forcing her into the crucified position. She shakes them and hears the telltale rattle of handcuffs. And then she can feel them, already digging into her wrists. She whimpers.

"Hey, honey," the person who is not Maura whispers in an attempt at a soothing, sweet voice, but it comes off too high, sickly and false. "You missed your Brazilian wax."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but she watches as his eyes sweep up and down her lithe frame, tied to the bed, and she feels the bile rise in her throat. "You were the one who was texting me?" and she can't keep the fear, the disgust out of her voice.

"Of course, honey," he smiles, and the urge to vomit grows stronger. "You're my wife."

Her head is still aching and she feels a little slower on the uptake than usual, as though her neurons aren't firing as quickly as they ought to be. Or at least, that's what Maura would say. Maura. Oh God. She yanks on the handcuffs again, ignoring the pain that shoots up her arms. She told Maura she'd be back in two hours, tops. And for a moment, she doesn't think about the man smiling lovingly down at her with more than a hint of delusional burning in his eyes, she doesn't think about the fact that she's lying on a bed that is not her own, trapped in God knows where. Because all she can think about is Maura, and how she promised that she'd be back in two hours. Tops.

* * *

There were voices, voices outside her room. And drawing closer. She froze, having been in the midst of struggling to sit up, struggling to see past the hazy four feet that was her visionary spectrum these days, struggling for Jane. Something's wrong.

"Richard. Richard!" That's Constance's voice calling down from down the hall. "Richard, you mustn't." She has never heard such emotion in her mother's voice before. If she could just place it… Maura screws up her face and places her hands over her eyes, blocking out the emptiness of the room. She concentrates, attempting to place the sound waves, the pitch, the rise and fall of her mother's intonation. Her voice is quieter now, speaking softly and quickly, and Maura can barely make out the words through the door. "We can't tell her." That's fear.

"She needs to know, Connie. She's going to notice immediately. You know her; the two of them a-" She's never heard her father sound quite so serious.

"No!" Sharp, fast, plaintive. "You heard Officer Rizzoli." That was Frankie, Maura knew. "He said he'd call when they had more news."

"Connie, you can't honestly think you're going to walk into that room and she isn't going to realiz-"

"I said no, Richard!" This is a command. "For all we know, she could just have gone off on a long walk-"

She hears her father give a short bark of laughter.

"And she'll turn up any moment now."

"Constance that is the most ridiculous thing I think you've ever said," she has never heard her father speak this way to her mother. They have always been polite to one another in her presence, even when she could tell that they disagreed about something. She's trying to decipher their words, understand what it is exactly that they're saying, but she's having a difficult time focusing.

"I'm her _mother, _Richard. I won't have her getting all upset."

"She's already going to be upset!" her father declares, his voice louder, carrying through to where his grown daughter is sitting up in bed, her face pale, her whole body shaking with the effort of remaining upright.

"It could kill her!" Constance nearly shrieks it, but all the same, the words come out as a near whisper.

Maura can picture her parents just outside her hospital room door. Her father wearing a rumpled suit. Her mother, looking as pristine as ever, not a single hair out of place, but the dark circles beneath her eyes belying her exhaustion. They're all exhausted. She knows this. And she feels guilty about because it is her fault they have lived almost a month of their lives in this place, putting their lives on hold while she watches hers slip away between her fingertips. She can picture them, her mother's eyes shining with tears, staring defiantly up at her father. Richard Isles looking helplessly back. He's always known what to do, her father, always had a plan, been in charge, but she knows that he has no idea what to do now. How to handle this…situation…of hers. He's at a loss, and she wants to tell him that it's alright, it's okay to be unsure, to lose control, but she knows he won't listen. He's her father.

From a great distance it seems, she finally puts two and two together to realize that they are talking about her. And her mother's final words seem to echo around the room. _It could kill her._ Bouncing off the walls, the linoleum floor. _It could kill her! _Growing bigger, louder, more corporeal with each echo. _It could kill her! _Her, meaning Maura.

She runs back through their entire conversation in her head, even as she hears her mother cry outside her door, hears her father's soothing whispers, pictures him taking Constance into his strong, protective arms, rubbing a hand down her back. She has never felt this slow before, unable to compute the data correctly, to make the connections that are waiting just beyond her reach. _Maybe she just went for a walk. Officer Rizzoli said. The two of them. It could kill her! _Jane.

"Jane," the name slips from her lips, a million and one prayers in a single syllable. The pounding in her head has suddenly returned full force. It is now vying for control with the shooting pain emanating out from her heart, struggling to be the most dominate hurt. But it shan't win, no, because even as her lover's name is released into the air, beginning its own echoing path across the empty space that is her room, her heart is winning the battle. And the pain is excruciating – worse than anything Maura has ever experienced. "Jane. You said two hours. Oh, God, Jane." She's speaking to an empty room, to a detective that is not there, a detective who is late. And she's crying and her heart feels as if it's shattering into pieces, shards littering the blankets around her, sharp edges glinting in the fake lighting, ready to cut whoever is unwary enough to attempt to pick them up and fit them back together.

The door handle is turning; her parents are coming in. Her mother must have gotten herself firmly back under control. They're coming in, and Maura can only gaze helplessly at the pieces of her heart spread around her, evidence, condemning her. She tries to straighten, to take a deep breath, to pretend as though she has not heard them arguing, has no clue what is going on beyond the doors of her prison cell – because, quite suddenly, the room _is _a prison, the bed is a cage, her body is a straightjacket – but she knows that she will be unsuccessful.

"Maura, are you awake darling?" her mother's falsely cheery voice calls as the door continues its forward motion, swinging inward. An object, once put in motion, will remain in motion until acted upon by an outside force.

Maura feels as though she might be sick from the pain of it all. She turns her face away from the door, hoping, helplessly, that she can keep her mother from reading her emotions. Maura has never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve - that was always Jane – but now, she is quite certain that even if she attempted, with all her might, to control her facial muscles, she would fail.

But her shoulders are shaking, giving her away. In fact, her entire body is trembling, a leaf in a storm. And, "Maura? Maura, darling, are you alright?" Constance has moved quickly into the room, sweeping around the bed and rounding it towards her daughter. "Richard," she calls. "Richard, come here! Maura, sweetheart," she reaches out a hand as though to cradle her grown child against her.

The woman in the bed does not mean to, she cannot help it, but she shies away. Her mother is blurry in front of her, her face lost to her daughter, but Maura's memory reconstructs it nearly perfectly. Nose. Eyes. Mouth, pursed in a worried frown. Dried tear tracks still present on her powdered cheeks, much as Constance has tried to wipe them away. Constance has stopped dead, her arm still stretched halfway towards her daughter.

"Maura," she murmurs.

"Mother," Maura's voice is harsh, unused.

"Yes, sweetheart," she does not sound as confident as she used to. Her own voice, soft, trembles on the term of endearment.

"Where is she?" Maura feels rather than sees her mother glance to her father for guidance. Feels him shrug from where he has taken up watch at the end of the bed.

"You should by laying down," the older woman begins. "Resting."

"Mothe-"

"You're extremely pale, Maura." Her mother's words are tight and clipped as though she is afraid that either Richard or her daughter will begin speaking over her at any moment and ruin the last chance she has at keeping order. "Perhaps we should call the nurse. Increase your pain medication."

"I'm fine," she manages, and the lie does not even burn her throat coming out. "Where is she?" she speaks slowly, partly because her mouth is having a hard time forming the proper phonemes, and partly so as to make sure her mother understands the question.

"Who, dear?" Playing dumb has never been one of Constance Isles' strong suits.

"Connie," Richard warns.

"Where. Is. my-Jane?" She slips up. Because she isn't sure what she was going to say after "my." My detective? My love? My life? But she knows she's slipped up based upon the hot, heavy tears sliding down her cheeks. This can't be happening. This is a dream. Some horrible nightmare that she'll awake from and Jane, her darling, her strong, proud, flawed, beautiful, wonderful Jane will be there, pressed tightly against her, holding her. In fact, maybe the past three months have simply been a dream. Maybe one day she'll close her eyes and when she awakens, she'll find that the world has once more reverted to normal and there is no cancer, no death around the horizon, no tumor in her brain, no chance that she'll be leaving Jane behind much, much too soon.

She doesn't realize that she's let out a gasp of petrified, humorless laughter until she feels her mother's hand on her forehead. "You're burning up," Constance cries, lunging for the nurse's call button, even as she presses down on Maura's shoulder to force her back down onto the bed.

"Mother," Maura is struggling for air, struggling to find the words. "It hurts," and she can hear the whimper from deep in her throat, her voice that is not her voice at all, that sounds foreign to her ears.

"It's alright, darling. It'll be alright."

"Where is she?" the patient can hardly get the words out now. The darkness is closing in, the emptiness wrapping itself around her, and if it weren't for the pain – the pounding at the base of her skull, the burning sensation in her chest as though something has been ripped from its resting place – she is sure that she would already have succumbed to the stuffy darkness. It is the hurt that is tethering her to solid ground, keeping her awake. "Where is she?" But the words are lost, uttered soundlessly as she loses consciousness and the pain is no more.

* * *

**AN2: Still with me? **


	43. Chapter 43

**AN: Y'all are too sweet for words.**

**Unedited, for your viewing pleasure. **

**Next update, perhaps a rescue, tomorrow. P'rhaps. You'll have to read and find out.**

**PS - This chapter might be a trigger warning for some. There is some violence/abuse. **

* * *

"No signal on her phone. I can't track it," Frost sounds angry from his seat at the monitor.

"C'mon, think." Korsak mutters, staring helplessly at the wall size screen that is so far showing them no new information.

Frankie is pacing behind Frost, scowling down at the carpeting. He'd taken Angela home and gotten her settled before returning to the precinct to help Jane's partners look for her. It'd been more than five hours and so far they didn't have any leads.

"We're in the middle of this double homicide case," Korsak continues, talking to himself more than anything.

"We don't know if it's related," Frankie cuts over the older man's mumbling. He doesn't understand why this is happening. Now of all times.

"We know Dr. Parker called Jane," Frost disagreed.

"The dead guy? Why'd he call her?" Frankie wasn't aware of this and he stops his constant movement to stare at the detective.

"Don't know," Frost looks apologetic, biting his lip and turning back to stare at the computer screen.

"Well did Janie know that he'd been calling her?" Frankie pressed.

Frost shook his head no. "I didn't get his phone records until after she'd left. I texted her, but-" he shrugs.

"She was already gone," Korsak finishes.

Frankie slams his palm down on the desk in frustration. "This is bullshit," he declares to the room at large. The other two men don't meet his gaze. "I wish Maura were here," he growls. At their confused looks he continues, "She'd know what to do…"

"We could call her," Frost suggests, but even as he says it, he knows it isn't really an option.

The middle Rizzoli child is already shaking his head. "When Ma told Constance, she freaked out. Insisted that Maura not find out until we had this cleared up."

"Dr. Isles is going to know something's up when Jane doesn't get back to the hospital," Korsak points out, shaking his head in consternation. "She's probably already figured it out."

"I know," Frankie looks put out. "But, _I'm _certainly not going to be the one to call her. She's got enough on her plate." What with dying and everything, but this goes unspoken.

The three men stare blankly at the screen, waiting and hoping for inspiration to strike. Anything that might help them find their missing comrade.

* * *

Jane isn't sure how much time has passed. There is one window in the corner of the room, but from her prostrate position on the bed, she can't see anything other than a thin sliver of sky. It's completely black outside though; night has fallen. She wishes she knew the time, but it was definitely past the point when she'd promised Maura that she'd return. She tries not to let the moan of need, of pain, pass her lips. Her arms are killing her and her back is starting to cramp up. She attempts to shift position, but the restraints bring her up sharp. At least her head isn't pounding as terribly anymore; she can focus.

She looks down, along the bed, trying not to catch her captor's eye. Dominick is sitting on the bed beside her, stroking his fingers gently up and down her arm, eyeing her as though she is a prize he has finally managed to win at the carnival.

"You took off my clothes," she says, simply to fill the silence and mask his heavy breathing.

"Oh, yeah," he answers, as though this is the most obvious course of action he could have taken in such a situation.

Jane tries hard not to squirm against his touch. She needs to hold onto some semblance of control.

"Do you like your new outfit?" he questions, more than a note of warning in his tone.

She looks at him sideways, trying to judge how upset she might get if she were to tell the truth. He glares back at her. Very. Lie it is. "Yes."

"Yeah?" And his round face breaks out into a grin matching that of any five year old who has just been told he's allowed to have dessert before dinner.

"Mhmm," she manages to make it sound positive. "I love pink." He smiles and nods, urging her on. "And ruffles."

"Oh, good," leaning forward, he nuzzles into her neck, his two day stubble rough against her cheek. She does not pull away, as much as she wants to. Maura, she reminds herself, bringing an image of the other woman to mind. Sweet, soft Maura. "Mmm," he moans, exhaling stale breath across her face. She gags, losing the image she'd managed to conjure of Maura on their last date. At the ice rink, her pale face shining with happiness as she'd watching Jane skate around the rink. She shuts her eyes, scrunching up her face in concentration. Maura. Think of Maura. "You look so beautiful," Dominick murmurs. Maura is beautiful. Maura is gorgeous, even sitting in a hospital bed. The most beautiful woman in any room.

Finally, seemingly haven gotten enough cuddle time, the man pulls away to stare happily down at his captive.

"Dominick," she begins slowly, deciding to try and take advantage of his good mood. "My wrists really hurt. Is there any way we could loosen these up just a little bit?" She gives the handcuffs a shake so they rattle against the wooden headboard. She knows immediately that it's a no-go, even as he stands, he weight leaving the bed, the mattress settling itself into a more level position.

"You are sly," he points at her, not in a menacing way, more like she's a tricky fox he's just caught attempting to run across the road undetected. "Nooo," he purrs.

She nods, trying to look as though this is not a devastating answer. Her muscles are aching.

"I'm gonna go out and get dinner for us. Okay?"

Jane nods again, thankful that at least she won't have to keep up the act for a few minutes. Except he takes this opportunity to lean down and press his lips to hers. She feels as though she is being smothered, as though he is sucking all of the oxygen out of her lungs. His lips are chapped and cracked and hard. Nothing like Maura's – no, not right now. She mustn't think of Maura. Not when he is doing this to her; she refuses to let the image of the doctor in her head be stained by this man. Finally, he pulls away, looking satisfied and pleased with himself. She wants, more than nearly anything, to spit in his face, but she restrains herself. That would only make him mad, and this will be easier if he isn't angry.

"I'll be back in a little bit," he reminds her, heading for the door and slipping through it.

She relaxes as much as possible in her constrained position as the door swings shut behind him and she hears a deadbolt slide into place. Lock her in. That's fine. She can't out of these handcuffs anyway. She feels the lump grow in her throat, and the urge to vomit is nearly overwhelming. She wants the taste of him off of her tongue, the feel of his hands touching her, roaming over her body, causes shivers to run uncontrollably up and down her spine. Struggling, she bites back the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. She will not cry. She will not.

She has to get away, and crying isn't going to help her. If it was dinner time, her absence would have been notice by now. Frost and Korsak would have found her car, still parked outside the precinct. They'd be looking for her. They would find her. She knew they would. And they'd get her back to Maura. She just had to keep a cool, rational head on her shoulders. So she didn't let the salt water fall, instead, fixing an image of Maura, radiant and smiling before cancer stole the life right out of her eyes, before she turned into a shell of her former self, alive and lovely and smart and funny, firmly in her mind's eye, Jane began her sweep of the room. She ran her eyes up and down, as far as she could see, searching, scanning, looking for a way out, a way home.

* * *

"We've sedated her," Ryan is speaking calmly to the two people in front of him. It doesn't matter how old your child is, as a parent, you are always going to be terrified when she's in the hospital and you don't know what's going on. He knows this. He's experienced the wide-eyed terror of parents before. So he keeps his voice low and soothing, doing his best not to spook them, not to make bad news worse.

"Se-sedated her?" Constance Isles has mascara smeared across her cheeks, but she doesn't seem to have noticed.

"It's best for now. Her pain levels appeared to be extremely high," he continues. "I'm afraid the shock –"

"But we didn't even tell her!" the mother cuts him off shrilly. "She wasn't supposed to find out."

"Connie," her husband's voice has also assumed that slow, calming tone one uses with frightened children, or parents. "She must have heard us talking out in the hall."

She stares at him in shock, having been unable to process this option in her rattled state. "But-Bu-But-"

"It's too late now," Richard continues. "She must have heard us, and now she knows."

"And now we need to keep her calm," Ryan picks up where the older gentleman finished, having been filled in on the situation by Richard Isles earlier. "Which is why we've given her some more morphine and sedated her. She needs to rest and to not overexert herself."

"O-of course," the patient's mother agrees. "Of course not."

"This shock, well, I don't think it will help her situation," he does not want to say these words, but it is his job, his duty. He's come to feel quite close to Maura Isles and her family, Detective Rizzoli included. He knew her from school of course, but in the past few months, having watched her struggle, watched the relationship between the two woman grow, watched the way they were with one another, even in the silence between conversations, he'd come to think very highly of them both. And although he tried not to get attached to his patients more than was necessary, because in his line of work, attachment could very well be fatal, he'd become quite fond of Maura Isles and her girlfriend. Jane Rizzoli was tough, she didn't take any bullshit, and he respected her for that. So to hear that she was missing, well, he felt quite put out by the whole situation. And he knew that Maura, in her already weakened state, could only be negatively affected by the news.

"Ryan." Mrs. Isles is staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful, and he realizes he's gotten caught drifting.

He straightens his spine, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Your daughter, Maura, that is to say, she's very weak," he manages, failing utterly to remember any of the professionalism he was once so adept at.

Richard is working his jaw, glaring past the doctor as though if he only stares hard enough, _thinks_ hard enough, he'll be able to come up with an answer, a solution to the problem.

"You said there was still time," Mrs. Isles disagrees, and she takes a step away from her husband to slip out of his grasp, unable to stand being touched at this moment, being held.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, because that is what a doctor is supposed to say to a parent whose child is dying in the next room, but also because he means it. "Her body is beginning to shut down."

She stares at him, her mouth opening and closing silently. "I-w-we-but Jane! What about Jane!"

"They're looking for her, Connie," Richard is still staring straight ahead. "They're looking for her."

Dr. Wilde glances over towards the closed door, behind which Jane's girlfriend is sleeping. He hopes so. More than anything he hopes they find her. Quickly.

* * *

"Ma! Ma, what are you doing here?" Frankie is exhausted and exasperated, his voice heavy with fatigue. They've been at it all night, and the sun has just poked its watery head over the horizon, but they are no closer to locating the missing detective. "I told you to stay at home. That we'd call if we found anything."

"I couldn't just sit on that couch all by myself," she reprimands him shortly. "And Tommy had to go in to work." She presses a hand to his cheek lovingly. "Besides I brought breakfast," she holds up the basket in her hand, and he can smell the warmth of fresh donuts and coffee seeping out into the stale air of the room the three men have holed themselves up in all night.

"Thanks, Mrs. Rizzoli," Barry says appreciatively, taking the coffee she's offered him.

She glances around the room, papers scattered everywhere. "Anything?" she asks, trying for lightness, but failing miserably.

Korsak shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he tells her, but she brushes him off. They're all doing their best. She feels almost as though she's been here before, déjà vu. She's got two children in law enforcement, and this is not the first time one of them has been in a dangerous, perhaps lethal situation. Angela Rizzoli may push her way into her children's lives, she may nag and gripe at them all the livelong day, she may seem a bit unhinged to outsiders, a bit _too _involved and excitable, but in cases like this one, where one of her babies are threatened or hurt or in trouble, she always manages a sense of calm. She is the eye in the storm. The home base. And so she is not fluttering around in a tizzy as her middle child seems to expect her to be. She is calm. She is controlled. And she knows, without a doubt, that they will find Jane.

"You'll find her," and she isn't afraid to let them know that she has faith in them.

"Any word on Dr. Isles?" Barry asks his partner's mother.

She glances searchingly at him, as if determining whether or not the information she has to offer will help or hinder their investigation. "She's not doing well," she finally releases, watching as the three men seem to slump a bit more in their chairs. "She knows something's wrong, that Janie is missing. And it's hitting her hard. Constance called me about an hour ago to let me know that they gave her a sedative last night."

Korsak is the one pacing now, coffee cup clenched tightly in his hand. "Wait a minute," he stops suddenly, seemingly unaware of the hot caffeine that slops over the edge of the cup to land on his wrinkled suit. The other three people in the room look up at him quickly. "Dr. Parker."

"The dead guy. Yeah. What about him?" Frankie asks.

"Well we know that he called Jane a few times last week."

"Yeah, but we don't know why," Frost this time.

"He treated patients with severe delusional disorders, right? It'd be his ethical obligation to call someone to warn them if he was treating someone who might pose a danger to them…" he trails off.

Frost is staring at him. "So, if Dr. Parker had a patient who was a danger to Jane –"

"He'd be calling her to warn her!" This is Angela, sounding excited suddenly.

"Pull up the patient list, Frost," Vince orders, already turning to study the hanging screen.

"And she was getting those strange text messages," Frankie muttered, coming to look over Frost's shoulder. His mother nodded forcefully in agreement. Frankie frowned though as the list popped up, "There are more than a hundred names on the list. It'll take hours to get through them."

"Hang, on, Korsak, what about the partial print on the shell casing?"

The two detectives have forgotten about the Rizzoli's in the room. Both of them are running through the entire case file in their heads.

"And the one on the inside of the glove," Barry continues.

Frankie and his mother are looking between the two men quickly. "There were partial prints?" Frankie asks.

"But putting them together…" Korsak looks askance at his partner, ignoring the officer.

"It's a long shot," Frost shrugs.

"What's a long shot?" Angela asks loudly, throwing her hands up in confusion.

Silence. Finally, the Vince nods slowly. "It's a long shot, but it might work. Pull 'em up." They all watch as Frost punches a few keys and two separate partial finger prints appear. "We'd need a few more points," Korsak mumbles. "Rotate it to the left just a bit," he orders.

The younger detective nods, fiddling with the keys, until the two prints line up. "That might work," Frost says doubtfully.

"Run it!" His sergeant agrees.

Angela hasn't realized that she's holding her breath until she feels herself sway in her place. She lets out the air that's been trapped in her lungs in a giant whoosh, just as a match is found in the database. "But that's Dominick!" She cries.

"Dominick?" Her son asks.

"Dominick Bianchi. His parents used to own that Bakery over on Lexington. A-and now he delivers the bread to the café. I saw him. Today! I saw him today, and Ja-" she clutches her hand to her throat suddenly, turning pale.

"Ma? Ma!" Frankie leads her to a chair.

"He and Janie – I re-introduced them this afternoon when she came in to visit. H-he remembered that she likes ciabatta. I-" she broke off, looking at her middle child helplessly.

"We'll find him, Ma. Okay? We'll find him," Frankie looks to his left where Frost is searching furiously for any and all information on Dominick Bianchi.

"Served eight years for stalking and maiming," Korsak recites off the criminal record on the screen.

"He was Dr. Parker's patient," Frost announces triumphantly.

"You have an address?" Frankie asks, standing, one hand still resting on his mother's shoulder.

"It's just the bakery."

"Aw, Hell," Korsak swears quietly.

"We should send someone, just to check," his younger partner says.

Korsak nods. "I'll tell Cavenaugh. But-"

"I know," Frost nods in agreement. She won't be there. It's too easy. And these things are never, ever easy.

* * *

Jane wakes from her fitful sleep, feeling as though she hasn't gotten any rest. Her wrists started bleeding at some point during the night, and she can no longer feel her feet, still stuffed into those ridiculous pink heels and strapped to the bedposts. The blanket that Dominick placed over her the night before has slid off onto the floor.

Events from the night before are a bit hazy. She remembers him bringing dinner in, but she'd refused it, unable to stomach the idea of eating anything those hands are cooked. He'd gotten angry. Really angry. He'd drugged her again, a sedative of some kind. She'd still been awake, but it had been like looking through a foggy filter from up above.

He'd paced for awhile, shouted maybe, threw some things. About how he was her husband and she, his wife. About how she didn't appreciate him. About Dr. Parker. And then he'd unlocked the handcuffs for a blessed moment and dragged her into the bathroom. She vaguely remembers relieving herself and then being half-carried back into the bedroom and locked up once more. After that, she thinks she might have fallen into a drug-induced sleep. Her mouth is thick, like cotton. Her throat dry from lack of water and as she thinks about it, her stomach gives a decidedly hungry rumble. She tries to ignore it.

It's morning; she can tell by the slanting, single ray of sunlight coming in through the one window. Morning. That means she's missed an entire night with Maura. Oh, god, "Maura," she whimpers, unable to keep the name trapped inside any longer. She'd kissed her goodbye, hadn't she? For some reason, Jane's having a difficult time remembering. Of course she did. Wouldn't have left without kissing her love goodbye, not anymore. They always kissed hello and goodbye, good morning, good night, it's three in the afternoon and I love you so I'm going to kiss you, it's almost sundown and you look lovely and I'm going to kiss you.

She forces herself to stop thinking about kissing Maura. Thinking about Maura only makes it harder to think about how she's going to escape. But thinking about Maura is also the only thing keeping her sane.

The door opens. She quickly rearranges her face into one that she hopes passes for expectant and pleased.

Dominick grins at her as he enters. "Oh, you're awake! Good! Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Thank you," she answers, having learned that being polite keeps him calm.

She watches as he takes her in, and then he glances around the room. She follows his gaze, noting, for the first time the way the room is decorated.

"I couldn't see everything in your bedroom," he answers her unspoken thought. "But I figured as long as I got it close. Are the sheets okay?" He's approached, running a hand along the item in question, and then sitting down beside her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He smells of stale beer.

"Yeah, they're fine," she nods slightly. "I-I don't remember having you over," it's a question, carefully posed.

"You know the building across the street from your apartment?" She nods. "If go up the fire escape, you can see through your window. And when you leave the shades open," he laughs as though she's done something silly.

She grimaces. "Right." Except she's hardly been at her own apartment in the past month or so. Spending every night at Maura's and then at the hospital.

Once again, he seems to know what she's thinking because his forehead creases in consternation. "You haven't been by lately."

She freezes, hardly daring to breathe. She's not sure what might set him off.

"I talked to Dr. Parker about it. He said that maybe you were working nights," he glances at her as though waiting for her to confirm this possible story.

"Nights? Nights, yeah," she nods vigorously.

But he's still staring at her, frowning. "You weren't with anyone were you?"

"W-with anyone? No, of course not, Dominick," her thoughts flit to a pale, small woman lying in a hospital bed.

"You were!" He stands, pointing an accusing finger at her. "I knew it!"

"No, no Dominick, I swear!" She hates that she sounds as if she's begging. "I promise. There was no one else."

"You're lying," he growls, straddling her and raising a threatening fist.

So far he has restricted himself to slight caresses and kisses. This, pinning her down with his entire body weight, feels like a violation. She wants to cry, to sob, to scream for help, but she knows that no one will come; no one will help her.

"Dominick, please –" he slaps her hard across the face and she tastes blood where her teeth have cut the inside of her cheek.

"Who was it?" He asks, looking angrier than he ever has. "Who touched you?"

"No one!"

He slaps her again, the other cheek this time. She is certain there are two red handprints staining her skin. She grits her teeth, determined not to cry out.

"Tell me," he orders, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her roughly against the mattress. "Tell. Me."

Her arms, which had fallen asleep hours ago, are now screaming in agony. It feels as though he's going to push her joints out of their sockets. Her wrists are bleeding again, sliding against the sharp metal of the cuffs.

He leans down, pressing his lips against hers possessively. "You're my wife," he is laying claim to her. She knows better than to argue. "Mine."

"Yes," she whispers as he trails hot, wet kisses down her neck. "Yes." She stares up at the ceiling, towards a God she isn't sure she even believes in. "Yes," she's praying, praying like she's never done before. A single prayer, over and over and over again. _Please. Please. Oh, God. Maura. Please. I love you. I love you more than anything. Maura. Maura. I promise I'll come home to you. Maura. Don't leave me darling one. Not yet. I love you. Please. _

* * *

"Where is she?" she asks, but she isn't sure the sound escapes past her dry lips. There is a straw there suddenly. She sips; cool, refreshing liquid making it's way down her parched throat. "Where's Jane?"

"Maura, honey. You're alright," that's her mother's voice, shaky, tired.

"Connie," her father. A warning.

The woman forces her eyes open, squinting against the dim glow from the overhead lights. She glances towards the window, knowing it's her best guess for the time. The curtains have been pulled – pulled to block the glare of the sun. That means it's morning; she's slept through the night. She tries to focus on the two people standing beside the bed, her mother's face swims blearily into view.

"They're looking for her," Constance begins, her hand clenching the cup so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.

"Where is she?" Maura wonders if her mother has spilled water on her face for a moment, until she realizes that the water is salty. She's crying.

"They don't know, darling." Constance's voice breaks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She reaches forward, attempting to gather her daughter into a hug, but Maura pulls away, looking to her father, her stoic, strong, smart father to clarify that her mother's words are, in fact, true.

"Her car was left outside the precinct," he tells her, speaking slowly. "Detective's Frost and Korsak have been working nonstop on locating her. They said they'd call with any news. Last night, you collapsed. They sedated you, kept you under, tried to give your body time to recuperate a bit."

She nods, ignoring the pain that shoots down her spine at the movement. Jane. Jane. Jane. She hasn't realized that she's mouthing the detective's name soundlessly until her father covers her tiny hand with his own. "They'll find her, Maura," but she wonders how he can presume to make such a statement. He doesn't know; he has no idea where Jane is, if they'll find her. He has no idea, and she opens her mouth to argue, to disagree, to demand that they do everything, absolutely everything to find her detective, but she's already sleeping back under. The pull of the morphine too much for her weak body to fight. She's asleep in seconds. Dreamless, weightless sleep.

* * *

"Dominick has erotomanic delusional disorder," Vince reads slowly from the chart in front of him, having had it sent over from Dr. Parker's old office.

"That doesn't sound good," Frost comments dryly. They haven't had much good news in the past few hours, and this will most likely be the icing on the cake.

"It's apparently a pretty serious disorder," the sergeant agrees. "He believes a stranger, most likely of a higher status, is in love with him."

"So, he thinks Jane's in love with him?" Frankie speaks from the corner, where he's hunched over, holding his head in his hands. The other two detectives stare at one another. That is definitely _not _good news.

* * *

Her entire body hurts. Her face is pounding where he'd slapped her, and she's sure she looks like a chipmunk with swollen cheeks. She isn't sure that if she was untied immediately, she'd be able to so much as crawl away. Her vision is blurry again, and she's certain that she's dehydrated. He hasn't offered her any more water or food since she rebuffed his dinner of the night before.

It's cold in the room. The old radiator hasn't let off so much as a drop of heat. And the sun has disappeared, most likely hidden behind a cloud. At least, she hopes it's just a cloud, and not already night again. She's losing track of time. Her brain is rebelling against itself, against the agony her body is being forced to endure.

"Do you remember Hawaii?"

She nearly screams in fright, not having realized that he was standing by the corner of the bed, watching her. He nods towards the framed pictures on the wall across from her prison. They've been photo shopped – poorly. Dominick and her smiling face on someone else's body splashing in the ocean, wearing a white wedding dress, sitting astride a horse. She almost snorts at the dress; she'd never wear something so poufy, and for a moment, she forgets where she is. She wants to point the picture out to Maura so they can laugh together. She can almost hear her mother's voice in her head, "Oh, but you'd look so pretty in a dress, Janie!"

"Dominick," she's saying, before she can stop herself. "You know we never went to Hawaii."

"Yes we did! We had our honeymoon there. We kayaked," he points to a picture that is meant to serve as evidence to that effect. It's the picture from her senior yearbook. She wonders how long it's been since he cut it out and put it on the woman wearing the orange bikini. "You surfed for the first time." Another picture. "We went to that all you can eat luau with the pig. Remember?"

It's simply easier to agree. Less painful. "Yes. Yeah, I remember now."

"Liar!" he roars, and she jumps, her wrists giving a painful twinge. She doesn't know what's set him off this time, and she tries not to cower as he advances on the bed. If only she were free, untied. He wouldn't dare touch her, wouldn't dare threaten her. "Don't play me," he growls. "We didn't go to a luau."

She shakes her head no quickly, hoping to soothe him. It must work to some extent, because he turns away, his large head cupped in his hands. "Don't be like Dr. Parker," he whines.

"Yo-you and Dr. Parker talked about me?" This might be stable ground.

"Yeah," he says, sounding like it's the most ridiculous question that he's ever heard. "I'm allowed to talk about my wife with my therapist."

"Course," she whispers. And louder, "Course you are."

"Damn right!" he nearly yells, spinning quickly and jumping onto the bed. She shrinks away reflexively, unable to hide the fear on her face. "Oh. Oh, baby, I'm sorry." He nuzzles her cheek, suddenly gentler than a lamb. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

"Anything?" It's Cavenaugh. He's come in to see how the three men are getting on. Mrs. Rizzoli has been set up in the café, and Tommy is on his way over to sit with her.

"Checking his financials now, sir," Frost answers. "Wait! He bought a bunch of computer equipment recently. Looks like he set up a webcam."

"A webcam?"

"Think you can track it to the bakery website?" Korsak asks, sounding hopeful for the first time in 24 hours. They're getting desperate.

"Trying a telnet port," the younger detective mutters. "Yes! I'm in. He's sending the feed to his bakery so he can watch it 24/7."

The film comes up on the screen and the three men stare at it in horror. Jane, is lying on a bed, handcuffed in the crucifix position. There is dried blood on her arms. Her face is swollen and one eye is turning black. She's dressed in a long skirt and flouncy blouse, except the clothes look wrinkled and slept in. There's a man, pacing in and out of the video feed.

"That's him?" Cavenaugh asks.

"Yes, sir," and Vince's lip curls in disgust.

"Oh, God, Jane," Frost whispers. He's never seen his partner in such a state. He wonders if this is what she looked like after Hoyt the first time, and he glances swiftly over at Korsak to see how the older man is reacting. If he's made the same connection. Judging by the pallor in his face, Frost is fairly certain that he has. It makes him want to be sick.

Frankie is staring at the screen. "Tha-that's Janie's apartment," he nearly shouts.

Barry squints. Yes, that looks like her bedroom.

"Go," Cavenaugh orders, but the three have already started for the door, jackets in hand, guns secure. He turns back to watch the screen in growing horror.

* * *

"How is she?" Angela asks, speaking quietly into the mouthpiece so none of the cops seated nearby can hear her.

"Worse," the voice on the other end answers. "The doctors are worried that the stress on her body will send her into shock."

She gasps.

"I don't think any of else realized how much she relied on Jane, relies on Jane," he corrects himself quickly. "Dr. Wilde finally said that he was surprised she's managed to hold on this long. They thought she wouldn't live past that fever back at Christmas."

"No!" Mrs. Rizzoli feels as though she is quite suddenly losing two of her children in the same 24 hour period. She hears him run a hand down his face over the phone.

"I think she was holding out, living really, for Jane. You know how the two of them are…"

"I do," but she does not need to agree verbally. It's a truth which need hardly be spoken aloud.

"And now that Jane is…"

"Missing," she fills in for him, touched at his sensitivity, but unafraid to state the obvious.

"Yes. Well, I think Maura's body is simply winning out, she's losing the war." He's losing control over the line. She can tell, and she knows he'd rather she not witness it.

So, "I'll call. As soon as there's news. And you'll call me?"

"Of course," he's grateful that she's letting him go. "Right away." The line goes dead.

* * *

"He's not in the room any longer," Cavenaugh barks over the phone to Vince who is standing outside Jane's apartment door, Barry and Frankie flanking him on either side.

"Yessir." He hangs up. "One. Two. Three," they bang open the door, guns held aloft, flashlights in their other hands.

"Police!"

"Boston PD!"

They sweep the living room quickly, the kitchen, the hall, the bathroom. Outside the bedroom door, they pause. Frost nods, and Frankie bursts through first. But the bed is made, the sheets unwrinkled, unslept in.

"Dammit! He's not here!" Frankie yells, swiping his hand across Jane's dresser and sending a few photographs flying.

Barry frowns, moving to pick up the frames. Jane and Maura's smiling faces look up at him, Jane's arms wrapped around Maura's torso from behind. He can just make out Bass in the background – this was taken at Maura's house, before the Doctor lost her hair, her blonde curls flying free, mixing with Jane's brown ones.

"They're not here," Vince repeats Frankie's words, dejection settling heavily across his shoulders. "Shit."


	44. Chapter 44

**AN: Unedited. I had to post it. I was so hyped up. Also, more than 700 people are following this story. I'm in awe of y'all. Seriously. So grateful. Love.**

* * *

She spots the blinking red light in the light fixture on the ceiling sometime after dark has fallen. It's been more than twenty fours since Dominick stabbed in a needle in her neck and tied her to a bed. More than a full day since she's seen Maura. This is the longest they've been apart in over two months. She's miserable. And not just because she's pretty sure her wrists are going to get infected from the cuts constantly being reopened by the sharp metal of the hand cuffs, not just because her cheeks are red and swollen from being slapped by a delusional maniac who won't stop calling her his wife, not just because she hasn't showered in days and her hair is greasy and matted against her scalp, not just because she feels dirty, inside and out. She's miserable because she hasn't spoken to the woman she loves, hasn't held her hand, or watched her slip gently asleep. She doesn't know how Maura is doing, if she's getting worse or holding strong, and she hates not knowing. It terrifies her. The ice cold lump in the pit of her stomach is swelling slowly, masking her hunger, her nausea. The only thing she can feel is fear: not for herself, no. If Dominick was going to kill her, he would have done it already, and as long as she keeps playing along, keeps up with his fantasy, he won't do more than hit her around a little bit, won't do more than rub his meaty hands along her torso, won't do more than – no. She forces herself not to imagine what line it is that he won't, in his delusional state, cross. Instead she focuses on the fear she has for Maura, for the woman she loves in a way she didn't knew existed, a love deeper than anything she's ever read about or seen portrayed on a movie screen, or heard about. The woman she loves is sick, d-dying, and Jane is strapped to a bed, unable to move, helpless to go to her.

And so when Dominick drops her dinner tray on the floor in disgust after she, once again refuses to eat, she sees it, blinking at her from above. When he takes a seat at the computer she'd noticed earlier and pulls up a video, a video of her, a live feed of her, she feels her heart leap for the first time since she got caught up in this whole mess.

* * *

"We have to find her," Frankie's face is gray, the dark shadows under his eyes giving him the look of a man who ought to be in a grave somewhere.

"He's live streaming," Frost declares at last. "It's a live stream. But he's smart; he-he's hiding the IP address. I can't find him," and he says this with such an air of defeat, of a man exhausted and pushed past his breaking limit, it's a wonder he's even able to form the words at all.

"Oh, God," is all Korsak can come up with.

"Jane," Frankie says his sister's name in a way he hasn't since the time when they were little and their father took them ice fishing and she'd fallen through the ice, only to be pulled out pale and shaking and an inch from death.

* * *

She blinks, and the woman on the monitor blinks back at her. It takes her a moment to recognize that it really is her, her eyes are puffy, her brown curls disheveled. She looks thinner than usual, paler, haunted. She looks away, back towards the camera on the ceiling. Maybe. Just maybe.

"I love computers, Dominick," she begins, her voice hoarse from disuse and thirst. "Just like you." Empathize. She has to empathize with him, to understand him, as much as she doesn't want to. It's what's made her such a good detective all these years: the ability to get inside the head of their perpetrators, to think as they think.

"I couldn't use mine for a long time, but I read a lot about them at Bridgewater State." She files this information away. Bridgewater State, a state psychiatric prison. "Did you miss me?" he asks, looking away from the screen for the first time.

"Yes," she takes a fortifying breath, "Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't," he giggles. "I wasn't there because of you. I was there because of Emily."

She gulps, and doesn't ask what happened to Emily.

* * *

"What happened to Emily?" Korsak asks gruffly.

"He threw acid in her face," comes Frost's shaky reply.

"Oh, my God." Frankie.

* * *

"I will always love her," the captor continues, standing and striding over to the bed. "I read about you in the paper," her head spins at the sudden shift in subject; she's finding it more and more difficult to keep her brain focused on any one thing for long. "I liked you when we were little and you used to come to my parents' bakery. You knew that you'd grow up to marry me, didn't you?" He runs a finger along her cheek and down her neck to rest on her collarbone.

"Oh. Oh yeah," she tries to make sure it doesn't sound sarcastic. He frowns, so, "Wouldn't it be fun if we put ourselves on TV as Mr. and Mrs. Bianchi," she tries; raising her eyebrows in what she hopes is an innocent expression.

* * *

"She sees it!" Frost crows excitedly.

"But what is she doing?" Frankie asks, clearly put out that his sister just referred to herself as Mrs. Bianchi.

"She has to try and make him stay in the fantasy," Korsak explains, and Frankie blanches at what the words means. Because if he comes out of the fantasy, if he gets angry…

* * *

"That's only for me," he pouts, glancing over at the computer monitor. "No one else can watch you."

"Okay, okay," she's already nodding, not wanting to set him off. "Okay." But inside her heart is shrinking. She was hopeful that maybe his need to show her off, t-to _possess _her, would swell his head so much that he wouldn't realize what broadcasting publicly might mean. She thought it might allow Frost and Korsak to find her. To get her home. Apparently not.

"I'm going to clean up your dinner," he tells her.

"Alright."

"I'll be right back."

"Alright."

"I love you," he bends down, kissing her.

She can't say it back. She won't. That's one lie too many. She doesn't love him. She hates him, more than anyone or anything, except perhaps cancer, in the entire world. He is a despicable human being. _He's sick_, she attempts to remind herself. _But he's taken you away from Maura. Away from the person you DO love. The first person you've ever truly loved. _

He's glaring at her, obviously upset at her constant silence. She's going to have to respond, she's going to have to – She opens her mouth, wetting her lips in preparation, "I-," but she can't. Because that would be a betrayal. She can pretend that she is married to this man, that she isn't chained to a bed and drugged every time she has to use the bathroom, that he hasn't stolen something from her, reduced her to some weak, helpless human being, that he hasn't taken her dignity from her, her pride. She can pretend that the past day has simply been a horrible nightmare, that she'll wake in the morning stretched out gently on Maura's tiny hospital bed, and wonder why her subconscious would ever give her such a terrible dream. She can put up with him touching her, putting his lips on hers in what might pass for a kiss in one of those carnival kisses booths. That's fine. But she cannot give him this, this piece of her. Because that would be tantamount to giving him a part of her very being, her very soul, if she were to believe in that sort of thing. Even simply pretending to love this man watching her now, well, it's simply unthinkable. Maura is the person that she loves. Maura Dorothea Isles, the light of her life, the goodness in her life, is the only person she will _ever _love, and she will not betray that, not even to save her own skin.

So she shuts her mouth and stares up at him. She wonders if he feels powerful, leering over her, a God from on high. She wonders if it arouses him to see her this way, trapped, a wild animal locked in a cage, and she is certain that it does. Her lip curls in disgust.

"Do you love me?" he questions, his voice shaking with barely concealed rage.

She does not answer, opting for silence. She does not shake her head yes or no. She does not blink.

"I said," he crawls onto the bed so he can take hold of her if he needs to, "Do. You. Love. Me."

This is her last chance.

"No," and the word feels powerful on her tongue. Tinged with danger, with warning. It reeks of rebellion, of hatred. She would not have it any other way, even as he raises his fist above his head, his own face putrid with anger. She smiles, triumphant, even her face splits in agony and she is looking at stars instead of the white ceiling and everything fades to black.

* * *

Maura Isles has never been afraid of death. She's been fascinated by it, yes, but never afraid of it. She has spent much of her adult life surrounded by it, immersed in it. She never understood those people who called death, Death, with a capital D, as though it were a person and not merely a thing. Death, she has always believed, is a part of life, and for some it comes sooner than for others. It is not pretty, it is often messy and hurtful and confusing, but it is also universal. Everyone experiences it.

It is not a stranger one meets on a dark and stormy night along some half-forgotten road in the middle of nowhere. Death is not a man, cloaked, hiding in shadows and waiting to pounce. No, for Maura Isles, death is merely the antithesis of living, what follows life, a part of the cycle every human being, every living organism goes through. So she'd never been frightened of it.

People died because their bodies shut down, their organs failed, their heart stopped its incessant thrumming. People died because they lost the will to live, because someone else took it upon themselves to snuff them out, as Jane might say. People died in accidents, in preplanned events, of old age. People died. They just did. And, for many years, it had been her job to find out why, how. It was something she'd been good at: speaking for the dead. Of course once a person died, they were buried or cremated or laid to rest in whatever fashion they wished to be based upon culture or religion or lifestyle. Once a person died, they were no longer capable of speech, but Maura was fluent in the language of the dead. She could speak for them. And she had.

And now that she was dying - because she was, she had been for awhile – she wondered who would speak for her. She'd never believed that dying of a broken heart was a legitimate c.o.d. Grief caused the body to react in interesting ways of course: loss of appetite, loss of energy could lead to all manner of complications. But a broken heart, well, the heart was an organ, a muscle. It was not the typical red drawing found in small children's pictures. It could not shatter like a broken vase knocked astray by an unwary hand. All the same, she was quite certain that her current systems fit the diagnosis of a broken heart, that if she were to be opened up by a medical examiner, they would find her heart split jaggedly in two and they would write on her death certificate: Dr. Maura Isles, Cause of Death: Broken Heart.

She'd been living with pain for many years. The pain of loneliness, of solitude. When she was younger, it was the pain of being different, constantly teased and bullied by her peers. As she grew, it was the pain of living on the fringe, never welcomed into the fold, always aloof. And then it was the pain of living a secret life, hiding her emotions from a woman she was sure would drop her by the wayside if she ever guessed just how deep Maura's feelings went for her. And then there was cancer. That was a pain all its own. But this pain, the pain of not knowing, is what is killing her. She knows, logically, it cannot be so, but the irrational part of her, the part of her that sees stars when Jane kisses her, that memorizes the slope the detective's graceful neck, that aches for her touch at three in the morning when she's alone in bed, that part of her, has already made the diagnosis.

"Honey?" Angela's voice is gentle, cautious.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "What were you saying, Angela?" The matriarch has been speaking for the past several moments, but Maura had been lost in thoughts of her own fragility.

"I asked if you wanted any water."

"Oh. Oh, no thank you."

Angela is peering at her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, sitting on the edge of her seat. "Detectives Frost and Korsak have been working nonstop, and Frankie with them. If anyone can find her, it will be those three."

"I know," she offers the older woman a small, reassuring smile. She _does _know. Jane could not be in better hands. Those three loved her; they would drive themselves into the ground trying to get her back.

"And knowing who t-took her, well, that has to be worth something," Angela sounds as though she is trying to convince herself more than the patient.

Maura nods her head very slightly in agreement. She had been sleeping when her girlfriend's mother arrived, and she had no idea how long Angela had sat by her bedside waiting for her to awake. She was feeling more aware than she's been at any time since finding out that Jane was missing. The sedative was finally wearing off, and they had yet to give her another one, but even without the medication coursing through her veins, her hold on reality was flimsy. At first, she'd thought Mrs. Rizzoli had been a mere figment of imagination. It was only after the matriarch had given her a large, yet gentle hug, and kissed the side of her head as she might her flesh and blood daughter, had Maura realized that the woman was actually in her hospital room.

"Angela," she speaks quietly. There are ghosts in the room, surrounding them, and she is loathe to dispel them.

"Yes, dear." Angela starts, glancing up quickly from her lap where she'd been staring at her phone, mentally pleading with it to ring. "Can I get you something?"

"No, I- no. It's just that I, well, I was hoping you might do something for me." A question.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"Would you deliver a message for me?"

"A message?" the older woman shifts in her chair, her spine straightening, going on alert. "To who?"

Maura swallows. "T-to Jane," she whispers them, picking at the sheet beneath her fingertips, afraid to meet the other woman's gaze, afraid she's about to be told off. It feels like the one time she ever got in trouble at school as a child, called in to the headmaster's office. Although she knew, of course, that she had done nothing wrong, still she'd been flushed and unable to meet his piercing, blue-eyed gaze.

"Maura. Honey," Mrs. Rizzoli reaches out to stop the other woman's antsy movements. "Anything you might wish to tell Jane, can wait until you can tell her yourself."

"But, I-"

The hand holding hers gives a squeeze, effectively cutting her off. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, sweetheart. You know I love you as my own, but I refuse to be your messenger. You'll just have to wait until she gets back." The mother has made it sound as if Jane has simply gone on holiday and is due back at any moment from the airport, jetlagged, and tired, but smiling and tan.

Maura wants to disagree, to insist that she be allowed to give her message, except Angela is looking her with her lips pressed in a thin line, her eyes pleading. She's asking Maura to agree. She's asking Maura to let her keep this hope, the one thing she has to cling to, intact. And the younger woman cannot deny her, even as she feels time slipping away from her, a constant river running through her fingertips like water through a sieve.

Angela pats her hand thankfully, her eyes not completely dry. "Janie loves you, you know."

Her own hazel eyes are no longer as dry as they were a moment ago. "And I her."

"If there was one thing in this world that she'd fight for above all else, it's you."

In her heart of hearts, Maura knows that this is true, has known that this is true, but it's different to hear the words from someone else's lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, never having felt gratitude such as this.

Angela gives her a watery smile and sits back in her chair, settling herself in as if she's preparing for a long wait. Maura wonders briefly if the older woman wouldn't rather be at the station, but when the matriarch shows no sign of leaving, she, too, settles back against the pillows. She'll be asleep before long of course, but for now, it's nice to know that she is not alone, that Jane's mother is sitting less than three feet away, keeping watch. She isn't Jane, but the detective is more like her mother than she'd admit, and having always felt safer with Jane watching over her, Maura finds that the brunette's mother appears to provide a similar effect.

* * *

Jane has been struggling for the past several minutes, locked in an internal debate. She doesn't know if the camera transmits sound, and even if it does, there's no way of knowing if Frost has managed to tap into the feed, or even knows that it exists. And talking aloud to an empty room is a step too close to crazy for comfort. But, if there _is _the chance that her partner has put two and two together and found out about Dominick and his penchant for recording his "wife," then there's the chance that anything she can tell him would aid in their investigation.

She takes a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," she mutters to herself, glancing surreptitiously towards the door to ensure that it is still firmly closed. "Frost," she whispers, and then louder, "Frost. I don't know if you can hear me. But if you're as good as I know you are, you can see me right now. Please tell me you can see me," she pauses, as though waiting for a response from her invisible friend. "Frost, find me. Please." _For Maura, _she adds silently.

* * *

In the Boston Police Department, three men watch the monitor with bated breath, hardly daring to hope.

"Tell us where you are, Janie," her brother pleads. "C'mon, tell us where you are."

* * *

"Please let somebody hear me." Feeling more than a little mad, she closes her eyes, scrunching up her face as though to better her hearing. "Okay. Uhhh. I hear, um, airplanes landing. Mu-must be close to the airport. Less than half a mile. And I-I-I hear a bell – a warning bell!"

* * *

"The Chelsea Street Drawbridge," Korsak says excitedly.

* * *

"The Chelsea Street Drawbridge," Jane announces, having finally placed the bell.

* * *

"Run that," Korsak orders.

"No. No that's not enough," Frankie frowns. "There are hundreds of buildings in that area."

Frost has narrowed it down an area with a radius of half a mile near both the Chelsea Street Drawbridge and Boston Logan. But, Frankie's right. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of possible buildings for Dominick to be hiding her in. It would take the entire Boston Police Force days to search them all.

* * *

"Find me, Frost. Please. You gotta get me out of here," Jane is pleading, speaking quickly now as the sound of footsteps approaching the door grows louder. Dominick is returning. "Please, partne-" but she shuts up as the door bangs open and the man, her 'husband,' lumbers inside.

"I heard you talking," he grunts. "I know you were talking to someone."

"No, Dominick, I was talking to myself," she answers.

* * *

"Frost! Frost, zoom in – can you do that?" Vince looks suddenly excited, as the younger detective nods, clicking some keys. "Zoom in on the radiator and the window frame. That's a cast iron radiator built in the late 1890s and a wooden window frame from the same era." The other two men look at him in shock. He shrugs, "What? My second wife was a fan of old houses."

It's a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Frost doesn't even roll his eyes as he says, "So we're looking for something built in the nineteenth century that's still standing?"

"By the processing plant? But they've all been torn down," the Rizzoli brother argues.

"Maybe we're not even close," Vince mutters, suddenly questioning his own information.

"I've got a building on Falcon Street built in 1891!" Frost nearly yells, pulling it up on the big screen.

His superior doesn't hesitate. "That's it. Let's go!"

He calls his mother on the way; Frost is driving with the sirens on, running every red light, speeding through each intersection. Back-up is on its way as well, and when they get closer, they'll cut the lights and the noise to make sure Bianchi doesn't hear them approach. He shouldn't call her, but he can't _not. _This could be getting her hopes up for nothing, but he thinks, know, he knows, in his gut, that this is the right place. They're going to find her. She's been missing for more than thirty hours, but this is the right place.

"Ma, Ma, it's me. Yeah, listen. I think we've got her, Ma. I really think this is it!" And when he hangs up, his face is shining in anticipation.

* * *

"I'm gonna make sure you never look at anyone or talk to anyone ever again," Dominick spits.

Jane realizes that she still doesn't know what happened to Emily, but she has the sinking feeling that she's about to find out. _Please. Please, Frost. Please hurry. _

"Dominick, I swear. I wasn't talking to anyone," she has to keep him occupied, keep him focused on her so he doesn't have time to worry about anything else.

Except he doesn't appear to have any intention of leaving the room to get some scary weapon. Instead he's clambering up onto the bed, straddling her again, except this time, he doesn't press down on her shoulders, but begins undoing the buttons with a gentleness that belies the angry set of his jaw.

"Dominick. Dominick, please. C'mon, please." She's begging but she doesn't care. She considers for a split second, _I love you. _It might have the desired effect, it might make him stop, but she can't. Even the idea of betraying Maura that way makes her feel sick to her stomach.

"You're _my _wife," he glares at her from beneath dark eyebrows.

She nods wildly, not trusting herself to speak.

He pulls the blouse open, exposing her to the open air in nothing but her bra.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Angela looks to Maura to confirm that the patient heard Frankie's voice over the phone.

Maura nods, not trusting herself to speak. She doesn't want to get her hopes up; she knows that this could be nothing, a faulty lead. But she hopes, oh, god, she hopes more than anything that they've found her.

She can feel her blood pounding in her ears, and the heart rate monitor starts to blip concernedly.

"Maura. Honey?"

"I'm – I'm alright," but the air is thicker than normal, it's harder to breathe.

* * *

"Dominick-"

"Shut up!" he roars, slapping her across the face so hard her ears ring and her vision blurs. "I'm sorry, baby," he coos immediately, pressing his palm to her stinging cheek. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she hates herself for the tears that are sliding slowly down her cheeks, hates herself for giving in, for taking it.

He's moved lower, towards the button on the skirt. An involuntary shudder runs down her spine.

* * *

They're climbing the stairs, Vince and Barry in the lead, going as silently as possible. When they reach the landing, they fan out. Vince nods across the way to Frankie who looks as though he would be about to lose his lunch if he'd had anything to eat in the past 6 hours. "One," the older man mouths. "Two."

* * *

"Maura?!" Angela is nearly frantic now, jabbing at the nurse's call button, while the younger woman gasps for air beside her.

* * *

"Please. Please. Please. Please," she doesn't realize that she's begun saying her mantra allowed until Dominick hits her again.

He's managed to undo the clasp and is tugging the skirt roughly down her legs. The instinctive need to cover herself is overwhelming. She tugs futilely against the restraints, whimpering. It's too much like before, too much like Hoyt, and suddenly she is there, in that hospital room and Hoyt is threatening her, but most of all he's threatening Maura. "No. Don't hurt her," she's rambling, but she can't stop. He's going to hurt Maura. She won't let him. She won't.

* * *

"Three," Korsak mouths, and they move, and all hell breaks loose.


	45. Chapter 45

**So. Here's the deal. I pounded this out in two hours. And I'm not really sure if any of it makes sense and I know it's absolutely (most likely) riddled with grammatical errors. _So._ But. I'm posting it tonight because... well because. I have a lot of feelings and if I don't post it, I'm going to obsess over it and I need to sleep. Anyway. You've been warned. It may not make sense. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading. And I'll shut up now. **

**Love.**

* * *

They're speaking to her, Frost and Frankie and Korsak. Even as her brother grabs the keys to the handcuffs off the desk and struggles to get the cutting metal off of her wrists and ankles. His hands are shaking. Even as Frost pushes Dominick Bianchi against the wall, none too gently, and slaps his own pair of cuffs over the man's meaty wrists. Even as Korsak leans over her, not touching her, just watching, taking in the scene, the same way he did so many years ago in that basement when she was scalpeled to the ground, not tied to a bed. They're speaking to her, but their words are garbled and unknowable. Somewhere between their lips and her ears, the vibrations are getting mangled – pulled and pushed until they sound more like water rushing over a cliff than exclamations and questions.

She's speaking, too. "Maura. How is Maura? Maura." Over and over, even as they release her from this prison. She can't think of anything else. She doesn't feel the blood slowly seeping back out to her extremities. She doesn't notice the action taking place around her. "Maura. Where is she?"

And it's not until the medical professionals have arrived, until one EMT, male, reaches out a gloved hand as though to steady her, does she acknowledge the other people in the room. She flinches at the contact, thinking for a split second that it's Dominick again, her husband. No. Not her husband.

But, Korsak snaps at the man immediately, sending him from the bedroom – _her _bedroom – except, it isn't her bedroom, is it?

"Jane. Janie." It's Frankie. Her brother. Her baby brother. He's calling her name softly, beneath the din of the warm bodies filling the apartment with their incessant motion. "Janie."

She stares at him, her dark brown eyes seeing him, yes, but not - looking straight through him. "Maura. Frankie, how is she?"

"She's waiting for you, Janie. But we have to get you out of here, okay? We've got to get you looked at."

She shakes her head. "Maura."

"We'll take you to the doc, Janie," this is from Korsak. Korsak – the man who has seen this all before, the man who has lifted her out from such a place and carried her into the light, the man who has seen her weakness, who knows it. And suddenly she's crying. Great, big tears sliding down her face. Jane Rizzoli doesn't cry, not ever. But she's crying now. And the blood is rushing back to her extremities, pulsing to her fingertips, her toes. She kicks off the pink heels in a fit of movement, sending them flying over the edge of the bed. She notices Frost glance at Korsak, but the older man puts up his hand, staying him. She's still crying, unable to stem the flow, and the pain in her wrists is biting, and the prickling in her fingers and her toes stings, worse than it ever has when one of her limbs has fallen asleep and she's had to shake it back awake. She's crying and she can't stop.

Vince approaches the bed slowly, as one might a wild animal and she releases a great, wet, laugh into the room. A laugh because it's so ridiculous. He's afraid of her. No – she stares at him through a haze of water and he stares back determinedly. He's not afraid of her. She's the one who is afraid.

"Maura," she manages and her voice catches on the name, on the prayer, on the plea.

"It's alright, Janie," he murmurs, crossing the final foot between them and reaching out. She backs away, but only for a moment, because then he's wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly. So tightly she cannot get away, she cannot escape. She flails, hitting him once, twice in the shoulder blades. Maybe she's screaming now, that one name over and over, but her own voice is muffled in her ears.

"Maura! Maura! Maura!"

Until Vince squeezes her tighter and then lifts, straining his old muscles to get her off of the bed and fully into his arms. He hasn't fought her, hasn't attempted to restrain her in any way or stem her tears. No one else is speaking. Her brother is staring at the floor and Frost is staring at the computer screen that is still filming, playing out these moments, a mirror of the real world.

He's holding her like a child, like her father once did when she was very small and fell asleep in the car on the way home from the drive in movie theater. That's the way he's holding her. She stops fighting, worn out, hardly able to breathe.

"That's it," he murmurs into her hair, turning and heading for the stairs.

She reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head against his chest.

"I've got you," he says so that only she can hear. "I've got you." And it's the same thing he told her before, the last time she was in this position, exposed for the whole world to see, no longer herself, no longer Detective Jane Rizzoli, youngest to ever be promoted to detective in the Boston PD, no longer the badass female, homicide detective. "I've got you." You. You. You. It echoes in her ears. You – this woman, alone and scared and naked. You – and by you he means Jane Rizzoli, the girl whose father left her family, who loves a woman who might be dying, who might be dead. The girl whose entire world has been flipped on its axis, whose north is south and south is north, who sees no way up, no way out. "I've got you."

And she cries, all the way down the flight of stairs, the other cops, her colleagues, her friends, standing back out of the way, averting their eyes respectfully from their fallen hero. Because that is how they see her, even now. Even when she cannot remember her own name, her own place in the world. Even now, when all she can see is a haze of tears and all she knows is a single word, falling from her lips as snowflakes do from the sky, they salute her as their hero. "Maura. Maura."

* * *

He calls his mother from the car, speeding along behind the ambulance, lights blazing, sirens blaring. He does not go into detail. She'd never be able to stomach it. But he doesn't know his mother as well as he thinks. Angela Rizzoli – she could handle it. She's handled worse, but he doesn't tell her and she doesn't ask.

"We've got her, ma. On our way. Mass Gen. Yeah." Short sentences – easier to manage.

"She's-"

"She's alright. We'll be there in ten." Frost takes a hard right and Frankie leans into the curve.

"Maura –"

"Is she okay?" he cuts her off, picturing his sister. His brave older sister who used to tell him stories about vanquishing giants and monsters at night when he'd crawl into her bed, afraid of the dark. His older sister, who taught him everything he knows about being a cop. His older sister who has only loved one person in her entire life, has only truly given her entire being to one other soul.

"They've got her stabilized now, but," she pauses, and he can see her in his mind's eye, wringing her hands and glancing fretfully down at the linoleum floor.

"We'll hurry," he answers. He promises. "We'll be there."

* * *

She's not sure how she gets from the ambulance to the hospital bed. Except that suddenly everything smells sterile and there are people rushing around her. There's nothing seriously wrong: dehydration, lacerations on her wrists and ankles, vitamin deficiency. Nothing too serious. But Korsak doesn't leave her side and Frost and Frankie are waiting just next door, and there are only women around her.

The doctor, short and solid and unfazed, barking orders. Two nurses, looking harried and tired after having pulled the midnight shift. But there will be cops in the waiting room. Boston won't let its finest detective sit in a hospital alone. And these women – they are under great pressure, but they don't show it. They speak her name, gently, until she looks up at them, uncomprehendingly. "We're going to clean the cuts," the younger nurse explains, walking her through each step. Explaining and then waiting until she nods before reaching out to touch her.

She's not sure how much time has passed since the door banged open, swinging freely on its hinges and she knew what it was not to be so lost you can't see land any longer, but she knows it's been too long. "Maura?"

"Not yet, Detective Rizzoli," the older nurse responds, avoiding glancing at the clock on the wall, even as Jane stares at it. Not yet.

"She's upstairs, Janie," Korsak steps in, glancing apologetically at the nurse when he gets in her way, but she sidesteps him and pats his arm and so he stays. "She's alright. She's waiting for you."

"I-I have to go to her," she tries to sit up, but her head swims and she sees three Vinces where there is only one.

"Not _yet_, Detective," this time more forceful and with a gentle push on her shoulder to get her to lie back down.

So she stares at the wall and waits, forcing her breathing to come in even, measured seconds as they dress her cuts and clean her up. Vince leaves when they begin to undress her. They offer a shower; she does not acknowledge them. And so they slip her into a gown, and the younger nurse, she can't be more than 23, does up the buttons. They dress her – like one might a child.

But, when they've finished, she does not feel like a child. She feels older than she ever has. Weighed down and exhausted and longing for sleep. But she can't. Not yet. Not until, "Maura?"

"Alright, Janie," she jumps, not having realized that her old partner had reentered the room. "Here," and he helps her down, off of the bed, and into the wheelchair. She doesn't argue. They're going against protocol here. She should be sedated, sleeping off the ordeal, the physical side effects of it at least. But they're setting her free, they're letting her take the elevator up, four floors, Korsak behind her, tapping his finger incessantly against the handle. She wants to ask him to stop, please, but she cannot take her eyes off of the red light, moving up, slowly, from 1 to 2 to 3, 4, dinging on 5.

Barry and Frankie are waiting when the doors swing open. They must have taken the stairs because they're breathing heavily. But she doesn't spare more than a moment for them, glancing instead down the hall. She was here, not even two days ago, she was here. Pacing these floors, staring out that window, watching the snow fall and time pass by without her. But suddenly it's as though she hasn't lost anything, it's the same day, nothing's changed. Except for her. Time has stood still here. She's the one who left, who rejoined the world, only to find it was not as peaceful as it looked from behind that plane of glass.

"Janie," her mother is standing in front of her now, squatting to be level. "Janie?" she asks again, and the detective, no, the girl, forces herself to focus. This is her mother. This is the woman who raised her, who protected her, who packed peanut butter and fluff sandwhiches in her lunch every single day for twelve years. "Jane." Her mother isn't crying and she's surprised to find that she isn't either.

"Ma," she manages, and it's enough for her mother, enough for the matriarch to know that her daughter is, in fact, in one piece. Holding it together for now. And so she, too, holds it together, as she's always done in fact. Holding her family together, her children, her husband, herself. Even when it looked like her grasp had slipped, she'd always managed to hold it together. Jane didn't realize how much she was like her mother or how much she _wanted _to be like her mother until this moment. Until Angela Rizzoli kissed her palm and placed her hand softly on her daughter's cheek, ignoring the twitch that signaled Jane's fight or flight reaction, ignoring everything that had happened to bring them to this point.

"She's waiting for you," Angela whispers.

"I love you," Jane answers, and there are crystal shards in her mother's eyes, but she holds them at bay, because that is what she does. Jane is like her mother, and she wouldn't want to be any other way.

"She's waiting for you, baby," Angela repeats and she stands, spinning on her heel to lead the way down the hall. She does not look back to reassure herself that Jane is still there, being pushed along behind her by Vincent Korsak, the man who is always saving her, the man who promised, on Janie's first day as a detective to see her safely through, and the man who has not yet failed to uphold that promise, no matter the circumstances. She does not look back because she's holding it together, because she is a mother, and that is what she does.

The room is dimly lit, but Jane can see well enough to make out Constance sitting in the chair beside the bed, Richard standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder.

"She's here," Angela tells them, or perhaps that's Jane's imagination, but the parents stand as the party enters the room.

"She's awake," but that might not be real. "We'll be outside," and the two of them sweep past. Richard first, careful not to come too close. His wife pauses on her way out the door though, just behind the chair. There is a swoop of air and Jane catches the scent of lilacs from Mrs. Isles' perfume, but beneath that, honey and vanilla. Her stomach clenches because that is what Maura's skin tastes like, she can remember, faintly, the taste suddenly present on her tongue. "Thank goodness. Thank goodness you're alright, darling," and Mrs. Isles – Constance – presses the lightest of kisses to the top of Jane's head, not seeming to mind her greasy hair or the fact that she smells of piss and body odor and fear. Jane has never loved Constance Isles, but she realizes in that moment that she could, even when she shies away from the contact. "Thank goodness," and the woman is gone, leaving behind only the faint, cloying smell of lilacs blooming in the springtime sun.

"She's here, sweetheart. Here she is," Angela is murmuring to the figure lying in the bed, and only then does Jane make out her name, mumbled over and over again, a litany, a mirror for her own unceasing prayer.

Vince pushes her closer, close enough so that she could reach out on scarred and battered hand and pick up the delicate palm atop the bed sheets. She doesn't however. She merely stares at the hand - willing it to move, and only when it twitches weakly does she tear her eyes away, up to meet the clouded hazel eyes staring back at her.

"Jane?"

They're alone, but Jane doesn't remember anyone leaving. She stands shakily, steadying herself on the mattress, and then lifts her weight, her wrists screaming in agony onto the bed, carefully, ever so carefully laying her long frame down alongside the occupant of the bed.

"Jane."

She doesn't answer, instead leaning forward and placing a kiss on the thin cheekbone. And another and another. Until her chapped lips are numb. Until she is forced to pause to take a breath.

"Jane."

"Maura."

"I thought I lost you."

"Of course not."

"I thought you left me."

"Never."

"I thought I wouldn't see you again."

"I'll always be here."

"That's a lie."

"No. No it isn't."

"Humans can't last forever, Jane."

"Love."

"That's not an answer."

"It wasn't a question."

Maura is tired, Jane can tell. Her eyes are fluttering open and closed. Her breathing is sharp and ragged, but the detective can't let her sleep yet. There are things she needs to tell her, things she needs to say. Because she thought she was lost, too. She thought she'd left. She thought they wouldn't see one another again either. And there are things she needs to say before it's too late, before she loses her chance.

"Maura."

"Jay."

"I love you."

And Maura is kissing her, and Jane is kissing her back, and this woman, this woman she loves with her whole heart, her entire being is kissing her. She tastes like honey and vanilla and home and saltwater and Jane realizes that she is crying again. And so is the other woman. Their tears are mingling on their cheeks and dripping down to stain the bed sheets with heartache and longing and love.

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you." She isn't sure who is saying it, who is making promises they will always keep. But she cannot stop. She will not. She refuses to let go.

Eventually Maura falls asleep, after moments or minutes or days, she drifts off, the drugs – meant to ease her pain – making her sleepy and lethargic. Her body is shutting down, but her mind is as sharp as ever, and she fights the going, with every ounce of strength she possesses, she fights the blackness.

"Go," Jane urges her. "Go. I'll be here."

When the doctor's hold on her detective's hand has loosened, the brunette begins. If this were a letter, it would be full of flowery phrases and loose meanings. If this were a novel, she wouldn't know where to begin. But it is simply the exhausted ramblings of a woman just recently returned from Hell, a woman who should, by all rights, be downstairs, heavily drugged herself, free from the torments of her own mind. It is not a novel, it is not a dying breath or final request or last will and testament. It is simply all the words she'd been meaning to say and hadn't discovered until it was almost too late.

And so she begins: "You are beautiful. And strong. So strong, Maura. Did you know that? Stronger than me. Stronger than anyone I've ever met. And beautiful. Did I say that? So fucking beautiful." She isn't crying, but her throat feels tight and swollen. "Time is a funny thing isn't it? You'd say it's a human construct, and that _we're _the ones who always make it seem like there's never enough. There's plenty of time for everything, you'd say. Wouldn't you? Plenty of time. But I've got to disagree with you on that one.

"I thought I'd run out of time. Last night. This afternoon. There was this man, see but - no. Never mind." She blinks, seeing a man with a scruffy beard leering over her, but when she opens her eyes again there is the slightest hint of pink in the window. Dawn is coming, peaking slowly over a still-sleeping city.

"I never thought I'd love someone like you, Maur. Smart and talented and beautiful and wonderful. I never thought someone like you would love me. But here we are," she brings the pale hand to her lips. "Here we are. Thank, God." She's not thanking God so much as she's thanking Fate or Time, for slowing down, just the smallest bit.

"And I wasn't going to fall for you. I wasn't. I think I even swore to myself that I wouldn't. Because I knew that if you let me into your life, I'd fuck it all up. I'm the one who always fucks everything up. But I did anyway. Fall for you, I mean. They say head over heels, Maur, and I thought that was a load of bull. But," she paused for air, "now I get it." She's whispering now. "Head over heels. Heart over head. Yeah. I get it now."

The doctor shifts beside her, "Jay?"

"I'm here."

"Love you…"

"Sleep, my heart."

She waits until there is silence once more before pressing on, because if she doesn't get this all out, she's fairly certain she'll be buried beneath the words she left unsaid. Words have power, mass, meaning. Didn't Maura teach her that?

"I think, Maur, I think if we had had more time. If we _had _more time. I think I'd probably ask you to marry me. And it wouldn't be over home plate at Fenway and I promise I wouldn't wear my red sox jersey. But you would wear that beautiful gown you talked about. We'd be happy, Maur. Don't you think? If we just had more time."

"Janie," her mother's hand on her shoulder brings her out of her half-sleep state. She'd drifted off, lying there with her head on the pillow next to the patient. "Janie, you need to get your bandages changed," her mother's voice doesn't shake on the words.

"No," Jane shakes her off, sitting up and stretching. She winces at the tightness in her muscles, but takes the cup of water offered to her gratefully and gulps it down.

"Slow. Slow sips," Angela whispers like she used to when Jane was a child sick with the flu. "Slow sips," and her daughter slows her swallows accordingly. "You need to get your bandages changed."

"I'm not leaving her." She says it softly, but surely. She will not budge and her mother, biting her lip, nods.

"I'll have them do it here." They do not discuss the fact that Jane should be in a hospital bed of her own. They do not discuss what happened to Dominick, even though she can see in her mother's brown eyes that she knows and would tell her if she whispered his name. They do not say any of those things.

"Thanks, ma." Gratitude. So much gratitude.

"Of course." But she turns at the door, with her hand on the knob. "Janie?"

"Yeah," she pauses in the act of lying down once more.

"You are strong. You are –" she gulps and then smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "You're strong enough."

"I love you, ma."

"You, too," and she's gone.

Maura is awake when she finally gets situated again. Her wrists are aching. Her whole body is aching.

"Hi," the doctor whispers.

"Do you want water," Jane goes as if to sit up again, but a small hand on her arm stops her. They both stare at the placement, two inches above where the pristine white bandages end. There is the line and they, simultaneously, make the decision not to cross it. At least, Jane thinks they do, except it appears Maura does not agree, because she reaches out a thin finger and skims along the cloth.

It is her turn to speak.

"I'll be leaving you soon. Not as soon as I think some people expect, but sooner than I'd like."

"Maura –"

"You got to speak. Now I do."

And Jane is silenced because she didn't realize she'd been speaking to someone who might possibly hear her.

"I've always been the one left behind, you see. And I was so used to it. I knew exactly what to expect. The feelings, the hurt, the tiredness, the moving on and getting over it. I was always the one being left and so I didn't realize what it took to actually _leave. _But now, now I think I know. And it's horrible, Jane."

"Yes."

"Yes," she's staring towards the window and Jane wonders what she sees. If she sees the same man that is haunting her, peering over her shoulder, breathing down her neck, even now. If she sees them, as they are, as they were, as they might have been. Or if she sees something else entirely, something Jane is not privy to, being still so far from death as she is.

"Yes, you see the leaving, that's where the true pain is. But even now, I won't really know what it's like. Because I'll be leaving and I'll be gone and I won't have to _feel _it. You see?"

"Yes." Because she did. Clearly. And it hurt already.

"I thought it would be… easier than this. But it's not like a book. It's not black and white and clear cut. This isn't life and death as we see it every day. As I forced myself to see it: laid out on a table with all the parts in all their proper places. This isn't like that."

"No," she growls, her voice low and deep in her chest.

"You aren't black and white," Maura runs a hand along her cheek and Jane does not flinch. She would never.

"You are alive and beautiful, rough and smooth, and you are where I fit. Perfectly."

"Nothing is perfect." It's an argument she's heard used against her many times.

"This." Maura nods. "This is perfect, sweetheart. This is the definition of perfection. You and me. Here. Together."

"But you're leaving."

"Jay – "

"Don't go, Maur. Don't leave me."

"Oh, my darling. I thought you'd left me. And I thought that once again, I was the one being left behind, before I could have my chance to be the one to disappear. And I hated you. For those however many hours. I _hated _you. Even as I loved you, even as I got ready to leave you. I hated you."

"Don't."

"But now. Now, I'm the one I cannot stand. In this body that's betraying me. It's letting me down. My cells are rebelling, fighting their natures. That's what leaving is; refusing to accept one's place and searching for something new, something else, something better. Sometimes we have to leave, you see. I didn't _know _that before. That sometimes it's the only way."

* * *

They're in the hallway – the four of them. Angela. Constance. Richard. And Dr. Wilde. And they are all four staring at the door, as though it will open magically and they'll be allowed back inside, as though what is going on inside the room might suddenly be revealed to them.

"I checked her vitals while they were both asleep," the Doctor explains.

None of them look at him.

"She's…stronger." He sounds confused. "Her pulse is stronger, her breathing is steadier. She's seemed to have pulled out of the nosedive."

They all look at him.

"Wh-what I'm saying is – you could take her home, I think. After tonight. If things keep on this way – you could take her home." _For the end_. But he doesn't say that.

"You said –"

"Jane." Richard cuts off his wife.

They all look at him.

"She was waiting for Jane, but now…"

"We could take her home?"

"Maybe. We'll see."

None of them look at him.

* * *

"Only way to what?"

"Only way to survive. Only way for the left behind to survive."

"Don't. Please," and she's never begged for something the way she wants to beg for this.

"Sometimes you have to leave."

"You don't."

"I do."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Jay –"

"Fight for me, Maur. Fight for me the way I fought for you."

"That's not fair."

"It _is _fair."

"I'd be leaving you that much sooner, my darling."

"No."

"Yes."

"Jane."

She stares fiercely out the window, at the daylight that has the audacity to shine through the glass.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Was it worth it?"

"What, Maur? Was what worth it?" But she's being dense on purpose.

"All of this?"

And finally, she looks at her. Really looks at her. This woman that she loves, that she thought she'd never see again, never hold again, never kiss again. She's messed up. More so than before. And everything has changed in the past 48 hours and nothing has changed. It's as though it was simply a nightmare, as though she's finally woken up to find that they are exactly where they were two days ago: one of them dying, one of them being left behind. Except it's all just a little bit different, just a little bit off. Because the wrong one did the leaving and now everything's confused, and the Fates aren't sure who's supposed to be going where. Aren't sure who to take, aren't sure who's stepping off the boat and who's staying on for another go, and there's a window here. Perhaps. A window of opportunity.

"Of course it was." She means it. Even though she's messed up and can still feel his hands on her. Even though she won't be able to get a full night's sleep for the next seventh months. Even though, if the Fates do get things sorted out and she finally fulfills her proper role in this mess, she won't be whole ever again. Even then, "Of course."

"I love you."

"And I you."

"And I cannot leave you."

"Please."

"I will not."

There's a window of opportunity, if they can only grab it.

* * *

**Fin. Plus an Epilogue which will be up...erm...soon-ish. **


	46. Epilogue

**AN: We've come to the end of the line, everybody. I hope you enjoyed the ride. **

**(oh and ps - I might be going through and editing things here and there, just sprucing it all up a bit. So, if you've "favorited" or "followed," you might get email updates saying new chapters have been posted. Fingers crossed this doesn't happen. But if it does, just know it's only grammar updates.) **

**Anyway. Enjoy. **

* * *

"Heading out, partner?"

"I've got to stop by the store and pick up a few things," she answers, attempting a scowl, but failing to mask the small smile she's been wearing all day. "You coming tonight?"

"Of course," he nods, leaning back in his swivel chair and stretching. "Wouldn't miss it," he smirks and she glares at him, swatting him on the shoulder as she passes.

"Seven o'clock," she orders. "Don't be late." And the salute he gives her as she leaves is more than a little sarcastic.

* * *

"Janie?"

"Yes, ma?" she sighs, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she unlocks her car and slips into the driver's seat.

"Are you stopping at the store?"

"_Yes_, ma. You gave me the list last night, remember?"

"Of course I do. But, well, I-"

"What else do you need?" She growls, looking both ways before pulling out into traffic. "You'll probably have to just text it to me," she admits before her mother has a chance to start running through the extremely long list of items she forgot about the night before.

But that doesn't stop the matriarch from launching herself full speed ahead into the list. Jane groans, but she still can't shake that smile.

* * *

"Rutabaga?" she mutters to herself, staring incredulously at the list on her phone. "Who the hell needs rutabaga for anything?"

It happens as she scans the produce section, searching for the offending root vegetable. The man is talking quickly into his cell phone and doesn't seem to see her as he pushes his way past her in the small aisle. She freezes immediately as the scent of his aftershave washes over her. He grunts an apology, moving on quickly, but she's stuck in place. She's tied to a bed. There is a man leaning over, kissing along her jaw, running his hands over her body as if she is his property and he her master. Her heart beat suddenly pounding her ears, the edges of her vision turning black, her breath coming in quick, short gasps. She grips the handle of the cart so tightly her knuckles turn white. She forces herself not to react more than that though. Her feet want to move, to carry her away, as far from danger as possible. But. She isn't in danger. She's fine. She's in a Whole Foods in the middle of Beacon Hill.

"Jane. My name is Jane Rizzoli. I work for the Boston Police Department. I have brown hair. I have brown eyes. My mother's name is Angela. Jane. I am Jane." She continues the litany under her breath, keeping her eyes closed. Short and to the point sentences. Reminding herself who she is. There's nothing to fear. She's perfectly safe. And when she starts to feel calmer, when she can breathe in for five seconds at a time, she opens her eyes, blinking in the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. She's fine. She's safe. It takes another few moments, but eventually she's able to unclench her hands and shake them out, and then, staring pointedly ahead, careful not to look around to see if anyone might have noticed her lack of control just then, she moves off, pushing the cart in front of her, towards the rutabagas over in the back corner.

The panic attacks are less frequent now, but her triggers are still there, even now, a year and a half later. But with each attack, it takes less and less time for her to calm herself down. For a time she could hardly stand to be out in public, where at any moment a man might rub up against her accidentally. But now, well, she's working on it.

* * *

"Jane! Where have you been?" her mother sounds almost hysterical.

"Relax, ma. Jesus. It just took me a little longer at the store that's all."

Her mother offers her a quick, searching glance, as though she knows, simply by her daughter's tone of voice, exactly why it took a bit longer. She decides it's better not to make a big deal out of a small thing however – completely out of character for her - but, "Well, hurry up and bring in the groceries. People are going to start showing up any minute! And you've still got to get the grill going."

"It's just the family," Jane mutters under her breath.

But her mother hears because she glares at her threateningly, "Frankie's bringing that new girlfriend of his and I want us to all make a good first impression."

"It's not a job interview, ma. We aren't being graded," except she heads for the garage and another load of groceries immediately after she says it so as not to get smacked.

* * *

It's getting dark and the back lights have been turned on, flooding the lawn in a soft, illuminated glow. Frost and Frankie are chatting up on the porch. Frankie's got his arm around his date, Ruth, a firefighter, who Jane, as much as she wants to play the suspicious older sister card, finds herself liking quite a lot. Tommy is further out on the grass, tossing a baseball back and forth with Korsak. They won't be able to see it much longer though, as it spirals through the darkening air, a white spot against the black sky. Her mother's in the kitchen, probably getting herself worked up about dessert.

The detective raises her beer to her lips and takes a small sip. It's early June, the first real summer night they've had in months, and she smiles when she spots a firefly blinking a few feet away. She leans back in her chair, studying the stars, just not starting to wink into view. This is what happiness feels like, she is sure. Contentment. Family.

But when two arms snake around her from behind and a chin comes to rest against her shoulder, soft, short blonde curls pressing against her own dark ones, she relaxes completely.

"What are you thinking about, detective?" the hot air from the murmured question sends a shiver down her spine when it comes into contact with her skin.

"Nothing."

"It's impossible to think about nothing."

"Do you have studies to back that statement up?" she asks, moving as if to turn around and face the other person, but the arms around her tighten and so she stays still.

"Yes."

"Are you lying to me?"

"I would never." A pause, while they both watch Tommy get in the head with a ball he could no longer see. "What were you thinking about, detective?" the question comes again.

This time Jane reaches down to lace their fingers together, bringing the other woman's hand up to her lips and placing a gently kiss there. "I was thinking about summertime and fireflies."

"Two of my favorite things."

"Mmm," she murmurs noncommittally.

"Something else on your mind?"

"It's been a long time since I've been this…happy," she admits, with something akin to embarrassment.

"Me, too," the other woman's admission comes much more easily, as she walks around the chair to stand at Jane's side, their hands still loosely entangled together. With her other hand, she reaches up to massage the base of detective's skull.

But Jane, stands, wrapping her arm around the other woman's waist as though she's been doing it every day for her entire life.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." This is an easy exchange. They do it every day. Twice a day. Three times a day. As much as they can. Over breakfast. Before heading off to their respective floors at work. Right before they fall asleep. In the bathroom, while one is brushing her teeth and one is applying her mascara. After the red sox hit a homerun and Jane spills beer on the carpet in her excitement. When there isn't any reason to. When there is every reason to.

"Do you believe in luck?" Jane asks, because she's been thinking about it, and it seems that's the answer, the only plausible answer for the way things managed to work out the way they have. She runs quickly through the past two years. Life and luck and love and loss and leaving and returning. For a moment it's as if she can see all the possible scenarios that might have taken place branching out from where they are standing now. Each break in the road, fork in the path, potential lives spread out in a map of lost possibilities, just-missed heartbreaks, forgotten laughter, full water towers of tears that would never be shed, empty buildings of timelines that would never be taken. Everything. For just a single moment, she is the keeper of all of their possible paths.

"I believe we live in a universe where potential and possibility come together at a head with each and every decision made," the blonde replies, unsure exactly where her detective's mind has drifted and unaware that she's put Jane's thoughts perfectly into words.

"Maura," Jane turns fully, searching intelligent hazel eyes for any spark of insincerity or regret. "Is this the life you would have chosen?"

"If I got to choose?"

Jane nods.

"Yes," the medical examiner answers softly, staring firmly back. "A million times. Yes." And when she stands up on tip toe, having kicked off her heels before dinner, to kiss Jane gently on the cheek, the taller woman's eyes close of their own accord, taking in the moment and filing it away for another day. Here, on a cool June evening, with her family spread out around her, the rough wooden floorboards of the porch beneath her feet, alive and well and happy, Jane isn't sure that she believes in Luck or Fate or Chance. But she is quite sure that she believes in Love and in this woman standing before her. When Maura's lips leave her cheek, Jane reaches up to cup Maura's pink cheek in her palm. No, she isn't sure what she believes in, except for the here and now. There has been hurt and loneliness and fear in their past, and all such things stand in their future. But there is also the potential for happiness, pure, unadulterated bliss, and she is going to grab it if she can, no matter what.

"Jay," Maura asks.

"Hmmm?"

"Would you? Choose this route, if you could?" And there still exists a feeling of vulnerability in Maura's tone, the thickly veiled readiness in her stance to flee if the answer is no, the preparation in the tension of her muscles to accept the blow if Jane does not return the sentiment.

But, "Maur." And when hazel eyes meet brown, the detective softens the fierceness of her tone with a smile and a kiss of her own. "A million times. Yes."

* * *

**That's it, folks. That's all she wrote. There was no way for me to make each and every one of you happy and pleased with the end of this story. So, to be honest, I didn't try. I struggled with how to end this. Because when I set out, there was no question that there would be a happy ending, but as I wrote and as the characters began to dictate the direction, there seemed to be no other way, but to end it in tragedy. And this ending, here, isn't realistic. Y'all are right about that, and I know it. I'm with ya, those of you who are pissed that Maura is seemingly alive and well in this epilogue. Because, yes. If this were the real world, she would most likely have passed away. I also didn't provide you all with an explanation of how we got from 45 to here, or why, or what happened, or the conversations that transpired, or anything. And, as a reader who likes to know what's going on myself, I would feel justifiably upset about that fact. HOWEVER. (and take it or leave it, this is the truth as i saw it as i was writing). When we read works of fiction or watch stories played out on our television screens week after week, we, has humans, have a tendency to fall in love with fictional characters. That's part of the reason we write out their stories, embellish them, throw them around in different universes. We love them. We treat them like members of our family, letting them into our homes and our hearts. And this is the way these characters wanted this story to end. Maybe you have a different idea, and the characters you grew attached to throughout the reading of this story have a different ending. That's okay. That's perfectly valid. So end it how you want to end it, but this is how I will end my part of the telling. And with a thank you. So heartfelt and grateful a thank you that I'm not even sure how to put it into words. Thank you so much for reading, for yelling at me in your reviews and crying and laughing and sending me encouragement. Y'all are wonderful. And this fandom is wonderful. And I kind of can't believe the journey this story took me on. I hope to see y'all around someday. Keep reading, keep getting attached, keep creating. Love. **


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